


Command of the Sea [Thrantovember 2020 Challenge]

by DistantStorm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: (explicit content tagged in chapter listing), Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Smut, Thrantovember, Tumblr Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 28,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: Thranto prompt challenge as created by queenie-chi-cosplay on tumblr. 30 days, 30 prompts.1. Soft 2. Pets 3. Cold 4. Home 5. Family 6. Command 7. Secret 8. Society 9. First Kiss 10. Miscommunication 11. Culture 12. Off-Guard 13. Cuddles 14. Date Night 15. Loss 16. Fight 17. Relief 18. Game 19. Translation 20. Wild Card (author's choice) 21. Holiday 22. Tradition 23. Insecurities 24. Role-Swap 25. Closet 26. Business 27. Favorites 28. Earth AU 29. Party 30. Rumors
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 328
Kudos: 161





	1. Day 1: Soft

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for the [Thrantovember](https://thedistantstorm.tumblr.com/post/633433420871188480/thrantovember-is-on) challenge over on Tumblr, created by queenie-chi-cosplay.
> 
> These challenges are always a great way to exercise the mind and practice writing outside of my usual comfort zone. My goal is to write each prompt at less than 1,000 words each, and to hopefully post daily. Thanks for popping in, and I hope you enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There might be more to Thrawn than stoic, unrelenting hardness.

The med-center’s lights were too bright. They gave Faro a migraine the size of the star destroyer she’d come from, and the caf only curbed it enough to make it bearable. Though, all things considered, she’d had a pretty cushy go of it on this operation. She really couldn’t complain.

It had been a smuggling operation. High Command’s briefing described it as _routine_. Boring, even. Which was why she'd delegated it to Vanto. They had confirmed this had exactly nothing to do with Nightswan, the lieutenant commander had earned his rank and was ready to take on tasks like these.

And he would have been, if it had actually been pure, unadulterated smuggling.

It had been someone out to get Thrawn, someone related to or involved with or hired by someone with some influence that Thrawn had slighted, some usurped commander or disenfranchised politician. Someone who had used Eli as a means to accomplish that goal. Faro still heard him screaming in her sleep, an artifact from hours of watching and rewatching the videos his captors had sent to Thrawn, demanding him in exchange for Vanto’s life, torturing the human when Thrawn refused to be intimidated into giving them their way.

She hadn’t been this rattled in a long while. And she had never seen Thrawn rattled, ever. She still hadn’t. She could, however, say with absolute certainty that she’d seen what he looked like when he was furious. She endeavored never to make him feel that way if she could help it.

“I am surprised Vanto had the presence of mind to lead us to them,” Colonel Yularen said in his unmistakable tone.

Faro flinched out of her thoughts and turned to him. “Wait,” She said, after giving him a far more respectful greeting. “He led us to them? I thought Thrawn figured it out.”

“There are a lot of trade languages out there that aren’t well known even on the edges of the Outer Rim,” The fellow Clone War veteran informed her. “Apparently one of them has a sign language that utilizes very subtle hand motions. Commodore Thrawn tells me the language is called Minnisiat.”

“And he recognized it from the holovids our guests sent?”

As if summoned into being, Commodore Thrawn appeared. She hadn’t realized he had returned from the nearby ISB outpost. “I did,” The commodore said, casually adjusting the sleeves of his tunic.

“I take it our captives have been dealt with?” Yularen asked.

“They will comply with ISB’s investigation,” Thrawn said curtly. Faro’s eyes caught on the deeply cerulean skin of his hands, hands that were normally concealed by pristine gloves. They were darkened as if he'd been punching something. She also noticed the small spatter of blood visible on his left sleeve, at the wrist. When she raised her gaze to meet her commanding officer, he was studying her, watching her recognize what he’d done.

She’d heard stories about Thrawn, before he’d been made her CO. And not the ones that described him as an incompetent alien. No, there were ones that described him as brutally efficient and dangerously intelligent, practically clairvoyant at times. People who had crossed paths with him described him as the kind of man you want as an ally, and a particularly vicious, exceedingly ruthless enemy.

She nodded to him, respectfully. Those vivid red eyes stared back blankly. 

He was a difficult man to work for, to serve under. He expected results and answers, did not tolerate laziness or ineptitude. He was not human, and as far as Faro could tell, didn’t have the same emotional spectrum as a human. Still, he cultivated relationships with men like Yularen, and even - as she had been told by the venerable rumor mill - the Emperor. She didn’t dislike him, exactly, but she didn’t understand him, either.

Nobody really seemed to. Maybe Vanto did, but that didn’t quite help her now. Should she comfort him or leave him to his thoughts? Technically it was rude to ignore his needs, as his second in command. Vanto was his aide, after all. They’d been together since Thrawn had joined the military. But he didn’t conduct himself like a man who was upset, or even worried. In fact, just going by his body language and facial expression, it was as if nothing had even happened. 

But his eyes, the way they looked so cold and devoid of emotion - of anything, really - were terrifying. It was as if he’d lost something, but he didn’t quite know what it was.

“The medic informed me that he’s out of surgery,” Yularen said. Faro turned to look at him, surprised. Why hadn’t he told her earlier? They’d just been standing here. “I asked them to wait before they put him in bacta.”

“Is he lucid?”

Yularen gave a not terribly reassuring hand gesture and said, “He’s in and out, but he did ask for you.”

Thrawn barely reacted, giving Yularen a stiff, microscopic nod. Then he left, continuing through the closed hydraulic doors at the end of the corridor.

That settled, Yularen turned to her. “Shall we return to the _Chimaera_ , commander? I don’t believe Commodore Thrawn will be joining us tonight.”

“They’re just going to dunk him,” Faro said. “Why would he stay?”

The colonel regarded her carefully, weighing his words. “You’ve haven’t been with them very long, have you?” He asked.

“About six months, Sir.”

Yularen nodded. “And what do you think of your new superior officer?”

“He’s intelligent.”

“And what of his personality?”

Faro frowned. “He’s guarded. Not unapproachable, but-” She resisted the urge to shrug. “You think he’ll sit with Vanto all night,” She said, this time as a statement.

“Would you sit with your subordinate all night if they were tortured for weeks in your name?”

“Not if they were in bacta,” She reasoned. “They wouldn’t even know the difference.”

“Perhaps not,” Yularen said. “But perhaps Thrawn isn’t doing it for Vanto.”

Faro couldn’t help her honesty. “It didn’t really seem like it bothered him.” He'd been composed, the entire time. Business, as usual.

“Thrawn certainly plays his cards close to his chest,” Yularen agreed. “But you might be surprised.”


	2. Day 2: Pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn, Eli, and the ysalamir that liked Eli best.

“It’s cute,” Vanto said. The yellowish lizard creature blinked up at him and scented the air with a flick of its tongue.

Thrawn glared at him. “It is ysalamiri, an exceedingly rare and very endangered species.” He eyed the specimen like it was a prize to be won. “It is not… ‘cute,’” He corrected.

Someday, when he was much older and retired from the Navy, Eli thought he ought to write a book about his adventures with Thrawn. Nobody would believe him. Hell, half the time Eli didn’t believe this was his own existence. He looked down at the lizard that had decided his arm was a place to sunbathe and back to Thrawn, shrugging helplessly.

“Coax it onto my arm.”

Eli blinked. “But he’s comfy right here,” He protested, indicating the way the fuzzy reptile-like being lounged on his arm as though it were a sturdy - but far warmer - tree branch. He stroked its back gently, the creature lowering its head to his forearm. He pointed at it. “See?”

Deadpan, Thrawn responded, “It is a female, lieutenant commander.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Eli scoffed, “Okay, well, _she’s_ comfortable, then.”

Thrawn raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the point in moving her?” He asked. It really didn’t make any sense. “It’s not like-”

They stared at each other.

“You’re taking it back to the ship, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lieutenant Commander Vanto.”

“Uh-huh.”

Thrawn blinked at him, pushing his arm flush against Eli’s. The creature eyed the white garment inquisitively, then lowered her head. Eli couldn’t help but feel a little smug about it.

“Sir,” He began, trying for respectful, but landing somewhere between exasperated yet amused, “I think she likes me better.”

“Impossible.”

“Thrawn,” Eli said, foregoing titles and respect entirely. This was ridiculous. He rolled his eyes. “My core temperature is warmer than yours.

Thrawn crouched slightly, putting himself at eye level with the ysalamir. In response, the lizard pushed her head into the inside of Eli’s elbow. His eyes narrowed in utter betrayal. 

Eli sighed. “Why don’t you try petting her?” He said, offering up his arm.

“My reading suggests they do not like being touched.”

“She didn’t mind it when I-” He paused. Thrawn had both eyebrows raised now, those sinister red eyes daring him to continue. “Oh, fine,” He drawled. “How about I bring our friend here back to the ship? I’m sure she’ll warm up to you.”


	3. Day 3: Cold

Thrawn understood what being the subject of Vanto's anger felt like. The younger man was a raging fire, an eruption that spewed heated words into the air. His eyes would even appear brighter, flecks of tang-bark and molten mahogany apparent among the darker shades of brown. His stance would become aggressive and his voice biting and accusatory. 

His accusations in anger usually fell just short of the mark, or were more easily dismissed because of his emotional state. Thrawn did not begrudge him his humanity. Humans were innately expressive.

And that contrast was what made this situation almost unbearably different.

Lieutenant Commander Vanto looked down at Thrawn from across the Admiral's desk, not moving. His hackles had been raised when he came in, when he had demanded between gritted teeth to know what Thrawn had done. He had not shown him respect as his superior officer. He had not sat down when Thrawn had gestured. He had not been fire or fury. He had been cold, vicious ice.

Arihnda Pryce had made some veiled comment to him. Something about how he'd 'earned his promotion.' Thrawn had trained Vanto to recognize patterns and chains of information. Imparting such information was useful.

In this instance, it had backfired on Thrawn spectacularly.

"I played stupid," Vanto gritted out, fists clenched at his sides. "What in the hells were you thinking?"

"At the time, she needed advice," Thrawn said. "She identified ways that I required assistance as well."

"Yes," He said flatly. "I'm sure she did."

"Our ship was in need of repairs. That was the more timely issue. At the time," The Chiss admitted, "She had information and some smaller connections, but little influence. She mentioned your lack of advancement, and while I certainly agreed that you were deserving," Thrawn met his gaze with an inquisitive one of his own, "I did not imagine much would come from it."

"Which is why you're not just in bed with Pryce," Eli said, his anger rising to the surface now, instead of the strangely stoic way he'd been composed this far in the conversation, "You've all but sold your soul to Tarkin."

"It does not matter," Thrawn said. He understood the meaning of the phrases.

"It does," Vanto crossed his arms. 

"The means by which you earned your promotion do not matter. It does not make you less deserving."

"I told you it didn't matter."

"You told me I would leave damaged careers in my wake," Thrawn reminded him. "Yours, most of all."

"All due respect, Admiral, if I cared about my rank," Eli replied tersely, "I would have taken Moff Ghadi up on the offer of a command years ago. I made my choice."

Thrawn blinked at him. He hadn't heard of that. The momentary silence was telling.

"You didn't know," Eli said, the words sounding bitter. "I didn't think you did."

"You should have taken it."

With a stern vehemence, but also a levity that mildly surprised Thrawn, Eli said to him, "I'd rather be an ensign forever if it meant I continued to work toward the greater good."

"Do you mean that?" 

"With all my heart," Eli replied, eyes narrowing as he cataloged Thrawn’s response. "Why?"

He reached for his rank plaque and removed it from his tunic, ignoring Vanto’s widening eyes. He leaned forward, eyes glittering with satisfaction. 

"I have a task for you," Thrawn began in Sy Bisti.


	4. Day 4: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ar'alani has news.  
> Eli has a plan.

From the time they had been cadets, Ar'alani had known Thrawn's place was the bridge of a warship. 

From the time they had been cadets, she had known that he was the most intelligent being she would encounter in her lifetime. 

And, from the first, she had known he was vulnerable.

The galaxy - from the Ascendancy to the reaches, through the Chaos and lesser space - demanded balance from all manner of beings and creatures.

Someday, some tragic idiot was going to be gifted the task, and Ar'alani had decided around the first time she had met him that it certainly would not be her. There couldn't be a being alive who would be capable, she had thought. Although, perhaps in the spirit of balance they would be too stupid to realize what indeed they were.

She had not been prepared for Eli Vanto. 

She had expected him to be intellectually stunted, to be a good, moderately charismatic man - which, depending on the opinion, he was (they had all underestimated his intelligence, though) - and to be emotional. 

Human emotions were… well, _human._

So, she had turned over every possible angle of the news before she told him. She believed him to have the soul of a Chiss warrior, to be compatible enough to their moral doctrines and life creeds. 

This would test. them It would be a test of her patience with her human officer, attempting to bridge the gap. It would be a test for him as well. He had assimilated somewhat. But he was not well liked, and her officers' prejudices made themselves known. 

A more tempered part of herself would understand if he wished to go home. She would not be able to allow it, of course, but she decided that she would empathize with him as best she could. In that scenario, she would assign someone to monitor him to ensure he did not run, but she did not think that particular outcome likely.

He entered her office with a questis tucked under his left arm and stiffened to attention under her unrelenting gaze. “You summoned me, ma’am?” He asked, still with that edge of self-consciousness. He had learned poise and body language in his time here. Gone were the nervous tics, the clench of the jaw, the way he would rhythmically clench and unclench his fingers.

Thrawn had sent him to her in need of polishing. Her job was far from over, but he was progressing quite nicely. She couldn’t help but wonder how much of a setback this would be. It would certainly be a blow, even if it showed them all where his true loyalties would be.

“I have received word that there was an… incident.” She did not go into more detail than was necessary, watching his face as she revealed the most pertinent details. Thrawn had been defeated over Lothal, his fleet destroyed, his ship and its crew reported missing, presumed dead by lesser space media.

He stood silently in front of her and listened, never giving even the slightest inclination of unsurety or confliction. She would never admit it, but she was surprised. He seemed… strangely calm. 

“You understand what this means for your position, yes?” She asked, when he remained quiet and she had finished. “You cannot-”

“I understand, admiral,” He said gravely. She expected to see disbelief. Uncertainty. She noted sadness, but no regret.

She understood that he had seen Mitth’raw’nuruodo come out ahead when he had no reason to be victorious. This loss had already happened, though. She had read reports on his fleet’s fate. It was a crushing blow by a resourceful foe. But to be so calm about it was to be ignorant to the truth.

 _“If_ he is still alive,” She began again, curt, “He is likely injured, or worse.” She crushed her own crippling worry for her comrade back down into the neat little box she kept it trapped in. “We do not know where to begin-”

“I do,” Ivant interrupted. He sounded as though she had distracted him as he removed the questis from beneath his arm and held it out in front of him. “If I may?”

She stared at him. “How-” She blinked aggressively at him, then cast her gaze to the panel built into her workspace and jammed her index finger onto the light control before toggling her projector. It took four seconds and several perfunctory taps on Eli’s device before a map appeared.

“I keep tabs on news from the reaches. Nothing from-” He shrugged, carefully revising his words, “Only what anybody else would access, in case someone’s keeping tabs on me,” Again his shoulders rose and fell in a casual manner. “The story broke that an alien fleet was destroyed by purrgil in lesser space. It was far enough away from the Core to report, and I don’t believe those rebels ever had a big enough fleet to take down Thrawn without help, so-”

“You know about these... purrgil?” Her mouth curled unpleasantly around the name.

Another nod, quicker this time. “They have specific migration routes,” He said. “Especially in the outermost reaches, where people like me are from, we know there’s certain paths you avoid during different cycles, unless you want to take a chance on them wrecking your ship or cargo.” He shrugged. “They’re known to latch onto larger ships, especially ones leaking the gases they breathe. They’re smart creatures.”

“And a vessel as large as a star destroyer would keep them sated for a long time.”

“It would,” Eli agreed.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Why did you not bring this to me sooner?” She chided harshly. “You should have come to me immediately.”

He flushed, but held her gaze. “Research,” He said.

“You believe he is still out there.”

“I know he is,” Eli said to her. There was that human earnestness, that slight worry, that lack of self confidence, but it was tempered into the set of his jaw, the sternness of his gaze as it shifted, like his posture, to assess her. “And I want to bring him home. With, or without you.”

“That is very nearly insubordination, Lieutenant Commander Eli’van’to,” She rebuked him. He was a brave man, she would give him that. Not even her first officer would dare speak so boldly to her.

“Yes ma’am, it very nearly is,” He agreed, and while sheepish, he kept himself reigned in. Tapping another button on the screen of his device, several migration routes appeared, followed by a pinpoint over the small orange globe of Lothal, before it zoomed out to become little more than a pebble. Countless scored lines ran layered over it, seemingly infinite possibilities that stretched out beyond the map’s limit before it zoomed out again, showing the space between the Outer Rim and the Reaches. The lines extended, swaying delicately between the Chaos’s variations in gravity until they lined up with the overarching migration routes. 

Ar’alani watched as every one of those migration routes led back to the same origin: a singular swirling nebula with an equally singular planetary system on its outskirts. An hour ago, half the galaxy had been their search grid. The man in front of her had reduced it to sixteen hospitable planets.

“You are certain?”

“Yes ma’am,” It was very nearly like dealing with a different person, given his even tone and light confidence. In moments like these, she could see why Thrawn had trained him in the art of tactics and command. He would be an inspirational leader someday, sooner than he might think. “I am.”

“If I say no, what will you do?”

“Steal a shuttle from the hangar.”

“And kidnap a Navigator?” She asked, voice icy.

“Vah’nya volunteered,” He said carefully, “So I wouldn’t call it kidnapping, exactly. But yes.”

As she’d thought. No self-preservation to speak of, but a brave man. The galaxy must be laughing at her, she considered with mounting clarity. She couldn’t decide which one of them was worse. Instead, she told him, “He would be furious with you.”

He gave her a meaningful look. “I think he’d have to get in line, Admiral.”

She inclined her head. “Indeed he would.” She waved a hand, gesturing at the map. “But perhaps we may spare you. Explain it to me from the beginning, Lieutenant Commander Eli’van’to. Spare no detail.”


	5. Day 5: Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn asks for something.

This was highly irregular for him, and _that_ was saying something. Still, Thrawn had never asked her for anything before. Not for himself, that is.

"He does not have family from which I can attain a blessing." Thrawn said. He did not squirm. In fact, he remained so still that it was unsettling.

"But he _does_ have family," Ar'alani countered. “And the Galactic Empire is no longer. Hypothetically speaking, you could ask them."

"They are hardly accessible." Those ultra-intelligent eyes slid away from eye contact. He said something else, something beneath his breath like, "Theydonotlikewhatihavedonetotheirson," Which in Ar'alani's informed opinion is to have given him invaluable experience and nurtured both his hidden talents and his confidence. They should be grateful.

“Have you mentioned this to Ivant?”

Thrawn’s gaze snapped back to her sharply. “I cannot see how reminding him that I am responsible-”

“It sounds like nothing he does not know already.” She countered, crossing her arms. “Ivant has spoken candidly to me about his family on the planet Lysatra, and their more… traditional viewpoints.” It had been an angle they had explored while looking for Thrawn. A potential, low-key ally who might be able to canvas a wide space without being obvious. 

It had not been necessary. Eli’s ability to step into Thrawn’s shoes and reason through the options he had been presented with had been more than sufficient. It had also been quite impressive, not that she would admit that to either of them.

“You have at least discussed this with Ivant, yes?”

Thrawn looked away again. “He does not believe it is possible to be granted citizenship. He also believes it will be quite the ordeal with the Mitth.”

“Of course,” Ar’alani deadpanned. Apparently she'd have to talk them both off the ledge on this subject, “Because we so often have the opportunity to present citizenship to aliens. Have you read the law about it?”

“It does not exist.”

“The family charters present a very old technicality that suggests only blood family must receive family approval. You do not require mine, nor anyone else’s to do what you wish.”

He swallowed, and she averted her gaze just enough to see the dark flush at the tops of his ears. “This is a human tradition as well,” He admitted. 

Perhaps he had talked to Ivant then, she considered. Though the fact remained that he also had a human Jedi who clung to him like a shadow while telling anyone who would listen that he didn't like Thrawn. She recognized kindred spirits, and the boy was forthcoming enough….

“A formality, then," She said aloud. "I see.” She leaned forward, smirking. “Fine. You love him.”

He dipped his head sharply in the affirmative, but did not expand upon it.

“You would not harm him if you could help it.” She considered him then, lips wilting into something more serious as again he agreed. “You will make many angry for your choice,” She said. “But you have always served the Ascendancy faithfully, even when it did not support you in return. They will learn, or it will be their loss. Do you understand me?” 

He nodded a third time, gravely. 

"Then carry on if you must," She decided casually.

“Thank you,” Thrawn replied, and she was surprised by how relieved he looked, though it wasn't long before his gaze narrowed. “Why did you know so quickly what was in the old family charters? They are seriously outdated. You have never planned to marry-”

“It is as you said,” She interrupted. “Human tradition. Ivant came to me weeks ago. He had done much of the research himself, but,” She waved a hand, “Ultimately decided to ask me instead of a patriel.”

“His reasoning?”

Ar’alani smiled, a little sadly. “He is not a fool. You share a name, but those people are not your family.”

“He's right," Thrawn began carefully, like a clumsy creature on thin ice as he attempted to confront complicated feelings. "But they would have denied him,” He finished.

“Perhaps,” She agreed. It was a softer answer than the truth, but in this, the families themselves mattered little. “His reasoning in asking me was quite intriguing. Apparently in human culture, the party requesting the union asks an immediate family member that their intended respects and values, and who looks out for their best interests in return. He felt I more aptly represented such a person, and that my approval and opinion would matter significantly to you in this.”

“He knows me well,” Thrawn mused.

“He does,” She agreed. “That is why I gave him my approval, as well as a promise to end him should he harm you. Apparently that too is human tradition."


	6. Day 6: Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eli is concussed and Faro tries to figure out if the admiral is unfeeling or very, very worried.

“Do not fall asleep, Lieutenant Commander.”

This was not ideal, Faro thought, trying to start a fire. She really shouldn't have volunteered to help them on this mission.

Vanto slurred his words like he’d downed a bottle of whisky. “‘M tired, though,” He said, his drawl very apparent, the word tired laid into with a heavy _ahr_ sound. He swayed where he stood, no longer permitted by Admiral Thrawn to lean against a tree at the edge of the clearing. He brought a hand to his temple, prodding at his injury.

Tsking at him, Thrawn took his hand and pulled it away. “Do not touch your wound.”

“Doesn’ hurt,” Vanto told him, flailing without coordination, attempting to stop Thrawn from stopping him. “Stop fussin’.”

Focusing on her task kept her head tipped toward the ground, which was smart, because her eyebrows hadn’t stopped creeping up toward her forehead. She managed to light a small fire, which was good, because it was growing dark, and a little too cool for comfort. And they needed to keep eyes on-

“Vanto.”

There was a delay.

“Hnnwha?”

Thrawn was far more patient than she was, though his tone was durasteel as he ordered, “Come here.”

“‘M’fine,” He said, throwing more _ah_ sounds into his words. That drawl was a hell of a lot thicker than he let on. He really must have practiced when he got into the academy. “Leamme be.”

“You are concussed and wounded.”

“Only a little,” Eli said with cheerful certainty. "And, yuh'know," He pointed off the mark at his slowly oozing temple. "And the blaster ricochet-"

Well, Faro thought as Thrawn stilled, this was going to go over poorly...

“You did not mention that when I asked you,” He said.

"Thas'cuz y'wer," He pointed at Thrawn, "Too busy thinkin'."

They exchanged a not so friendly glare as Faro decided to step in. At last check, Vanto thought it was two years ago, occasionally insisted he was still an ensign regardless of any reassurances, and couldn’t remember the name of the planet they were currently marooned on. His opinion couldn't be trusted. “Sir, I don't think-”

“Show me,” Thrawn demanded. Faro flinched at the darkness in his tone. That had not been what she was expecting. Vanto couldn’t help it. He was out of his mind, clearly having suffered a brain injury.

“I told you I’m-” There was a shuffling sound, then a whine. “OW! Don’t _do_ that!”

“Sit,” Thrawn ordered. Faro had a feeling that Vanto had fallen on his ass more than he’d chosen to sit based on the thumping sound he made.

“What the hell, Thrawn?” Vanto snarled at him.

“Easy, Vanto,” Faro threw over her shoulder, trying to help. “That’s your commanding officer.”

“I know that,” He snapped at her. “You try havin’im shove a finger in-” He made a wobbling sound and instantly redirected. “Wow, ‘s jus me orrrr is everythin’ spinnin’?”

“Tell us if you’re going to be sick,” She attempted to warn, but Thrawn had already manhandled him back up and toward the tree line. By the time he started retching, she couldn’t see them anymore.

It would almost be a lovely evening under the stars if not for the gasping wet sounds coming from the woods and the smarting loss of their transport at the hands of some crafty smugglers who had managed to strand them in the middle of nowhere. She wondered how insubordinate it would be of her to request never to leave the bridge of the _Chimaera_ again. She’d take the stars from space, thank you very much.

When Thrawn and Vanto made it back to the fireside, Vanto looked pale, and Thrawn’s lips were tight, his eyes barely leaving the younger man for a second. “The waterflask,” he said, extending his hand toward her. She handed it over and watched him carefully allocate a single capful of water for his junior officer to rinse his mouth out. That competed, he handed her the flask back when Vanto denied a true drink from it.

“C’n I sleep now?”

Thrawn considered him. “What year is it?”

Vanto shrugged. “Ask Palpatine. He’s the Emperor.”

The admiral raised a single eyebrow. “You remember the questions we asked you earlier.”

The youngest of them shrugged again, lolling his head from side to side before wincing and rubbing his neck with one hand and holding his head with the other. “That hurts.”

“What is my full name?” Thrawn asked him and Faro pulled a face. What kind of test was that? Unless something had drastically changed-

Except Vanto considered, and looked up at him as if he’d lost something he’d forgotten he’d found. “I,” He said, with the gravity of a drunk person, which, in itself was worrying, “I don’ remember.”

“It’s alright,” Thrawn said, almost kindly. As if the question had other implications. Faro had never heard the admiral's name pronounced correctly before. She thought that she had seen it on paper, though.

“No, issn’t.”

Thrawn looked at Faro briefly, before guiding Eli to sit with his back against a tree stump on the ground near enough to her fire to be warm. “You will remember," Thrawn assured him. "I did not mean to upset you."

There was a lengthy silence after that, the fire popping quietly in the stillness of the night. Faro looked up from that orange heat to see that Eli had fallen asleep propped against Thrawn, his wounded temple looking blood blackened and gory. The fire illuminated the blaster wound on his thigh as well. Thrawn had obviously ripped part of Vanto's trousers away from the injury to get a look at it.

“How bad is he?”

“Bad,” Thrawn said gravely. She wasn’t sure what the hell Thrawn was thinking, if he was actually worried like Vanto had accused him of being, or not… Thrawn looked a little put out to be an impromptu pillow, she supposed, but he had yet to seem truly angry or concerned. His demands of the lieutenant commander were stern to coerce him into listening, she told herself. “You may rest,” He encouraged her. “I will stay awake to monitor his condition.”

She sighed. “Sir, I don’t mind. I can-”

“There is little chance they will find us until morning.”

“Wake me for anything,” She said, realizing he wouldn't accept her assistance. He made a grunt of acknowledgement. It would have to do. "And if you don't mind, Sir, let's never do this again." She eyed her own wrapped ankle. It was a dull, throbbing ache, but she'd had worse. 

It had been… some time, Faro thought, when she was roused by quiet discussion across the fire. She kept herself still and her eyes half-lidded and listened.

Vanto was curled in on himself, clutching his head. "Why don't I remember what happened?" He was asking quietly.

"You were injured when our transport vessel was destroyed by the smugglers we had been chasing."

"All part of your plan, right?" 

She heard Thrawn's hesitance. It was thick, like a tangible thing. "Not this time," Thrawn admitted. In their haste to triage Vanto's multiple injuries and her leg with no medical supplies, she'd nearly forgotten that the smugglers had managed to escape.

The lack of further conversation must have been due to movement, because when she next chanced a look across the fire, Vanto's head was on one of Thrawn's thighs and he generally laid on his back. Thrawn clinically prodded at his injuries, checking them while Vanto twitched and winced and tried to hold himself still.

"You have been-" Thrawn said a word, and it took a moment for her to realize he had said it in Sy Bisti. She knew Vanto had been his translator to start with but-

 _"I'll be alright,"_ Vanto told him, instead of telling him the word's meaning. It had been disoriented, or confused, Faro translated mentally. _"You worry too much."_

 _"If I had worried sufficiently,"_ Thrawn harrumphed, his silky tone dark with self loathing, _"You would not be injured right now."_ Faro snapped her eyes shut. This was not a conversation she was meant to be hearing.

 _"You can't predict everything, Mitth'raw'nuruodo,"_ Vanto said, words like a soft sigh through a haze of sleep. She was willing to bet every credit she had that he'd pronounced Thrawn's name correctly. It sounded regal and becoming. _"You'll see me through this."_

 _"I shall do my best,"_ Thrawn promised him, and the moment began to lapse.

Eli grunted back, _"That bad?"_

_"Not at all."_

_"I know when you're lying."_

There must have been a gesture of some sort, some sort of indication, but Vanto provided no verbal evidence. _"Impressive,"_ Thrawn said. _"I had not realized it was obvious._

"Mmm," Eli affirmed, then asked, _"I haven't said anything dumb, have I? I feel like I've been running my mouth."_

_"You have been fine."_

_"Could have sworn I yelled at you, then puked on your boots,"_ He said, growing muzzy again.

 _"That may have happened, yes,"_ Thrawn mused. _"Again, you are quite seriously concussed."_

 _"Fuck,"_ Vanto cursed. _"I am so sorry-"_

Thrawn made an almost gentle hissing sound. It wasn't the way a human shushed another human, but it seemed to calm Vanto. _"Enough,"_ The Chiss chided. _"It is doubtful that you will remember this by the time you are out of bacta."_

Eyes still held closed, she listened for more conversation. Outside of a pained groan as Vanto resettled, it was quiet for a long while. 

_"You should try to stay awake,"_ Thrawn said quietly, when Faro had nearly fallen back into a light doze. _"I had trouble rousing you the last time I woke you up."_

"Mmh?" He groaned, clearly slipping out of consciousness. Faro felt bad for him. "Oh," He winced, seemingly forgetting that they had been discussing in another language. It only got worse when he spoke again lost to whatever tangled connections were misfiring in his brain. "Right. D'you need this data, or-"

"Thank you, Commander," Thrawn breathed after a momentary pause, and this time she heard the resignation and stress in his voice. He seemed to force himself to remain cool and controlled. "Tell me what you found."

He was very worried, she realized. Eli was saying something. Data of some kind, most of which were addled ramblings that made no sense, but Thrawn kept him talking until the younger man's consciousness gave way mid-sentence. She winced when she heard Thrawn's voice sharpen, but it was immediately overwhelmed by the sound of a ship approaching rapidly from a distance. 

From the corner of her eye, when she immediately rushed forward on her aching leg to apprise the team of their situation, she could have sworn she saw her commanding officer gently brushing sweat dampened hair from Vanto's forehead. But when she turned completely, Thrawn's face was blank and his posture regal, without any evidence that there had been tension at all. He lifted Vanto in his arms and headed toward their evac, seemingly uncaring that his aide's blood left tacky stains on his admiral's rank plaque.

Faro wasn't the best at Sy Bisti, and she certainly wasn't the best at understanding Thrawn, but she had the feeling that was krayt spit at best.


	7. Day 7: Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli thinks his feelings are. Thalias finds that rather adorable.

Mitth’ali’astov had thought it was quite adorable. The admiral had warned her that this was a possibility - that recent events had prompted her to consider that whatever feelings the human Thrawn had sent home had, for his former commander, they were most likely romantic in nature. More than that, however, she suggested that such feelings were, in fact, mutual. 

And that was even more adorable than some sweet-faced human with an unrequited crush. 

She hadn’t gotten the chance to request to meet him until afterwards. After Thrawn had gone missing after his last mission with Ar’alani, and the Empire - Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s Empire, for it was not Eli’van’to’s any longer - had been defeated. Admiral Ar’alani had hesitated at the time. 

“He is not in good spirits,” She had said. “It would hardly be a good first impression.”

Thalias had hummed politely but stood her ground. “I’m not in particularly good spirits, either. But if he is all you say he is, I suspect we will be able to judge each other on more than recent character.”

The day he had been scheduled to arrive had been bleak and dreary, the wind too cold for rain, but the temperature just slightly above freezing. It made for dark skies like perpetual evening and a bitter slurry that fell from the sky like it was weeping.

He was shorter than she had expected. He looked tired, like he didn’t sleep, or perhaps he needed more. His eyes were dark, the color of rare, fertile soil with flecks of sun or soulfire. They were interesting, like the dark color of his skin, and the smoothness of his forehead and cheeks. 

He bowed politely and introduced himself as was tradition. She rolled her eyes. “I hope we can be friends, Eli’van’to,” She said. “But in the meantime, you do not need to treat me like a syndic.”

She showed him around her home, a small but luxurious dwelling just outside the major Mitth family stronghold on the planet. She had sent him to the guest chambers and instructed him to freshen up, then told him she would come get him once she had prepared their dinner. 

Thalias didn’t particularly enjoy cooking, but it always made her feel better to be doing something. She prepared a simple meal, a Chiss staple, and set it to bake before procuring a bottle of wine for them both from her tiny cellar.

He emerged as she was pulling the food from the oven, and had taken to assisting her with setting the table. He too needed to be busy, she thought. His mind was occupied, but his body could not cope with the dissonance of standing still when there was so clearly a problem.

“It was kind of you to invite me here,” He’d said, when she filled his wine glass, then her own, considered him, and topped the glasses off to a socially unacceptable level. 

“Well, as I had said, I think that we could be friends,” She offered. “You care very much for your former admiral, as do I.”

“I thought you might have invited me here because you knew something.” She could tell by the way his face pinched that he was trying not to sound insulting. The kitchen stayed silent as he considered his words. “Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t,” She said. “I wish I did.”

“Yeah,” He said, “Me too.’

“Admiral Ar’alani has many stories about him,” She said, considering her wine. “When I had reached out to her, she said she did not offer them to you because she did not think you would want them.”

Eli’van’to shook his head. “I would never turn her down-”

“She is also processing his absence, in her own way. And she is your superior. It isn’t necessarily appropriate.” Thalias looked over the rim of her glass conspiratorially. “I, however, am not. I thought you and I might be able to remember him together until he finds his way back to us.”

“You want to get drunk and swap stories?”

She grinned, shrugging. “The admiral said you looked like you had been slapped when he greeted you like some mere acquaintance.” She shrugged, ignoring his obvious blush. “And yet, he bent over backwards to facilitate that which you wanted.”

He choked on his wine. She smiled at him. “I don’t think that was his intention,” He coughed. “I’m sure it was just some part of a grander plan.”

“Grander plan or not, there are very few people he chooses.” Thalias said. “And even fewer who choose him back, like you have.”


	8. Day 8: Society

Thalias sat to his left in the meeting hall, representing his family, and Ar’alani, representing the Defense Fleet, to his right. The proceedings were hostile, the speakers both for and against Thrawn’s exile arguing their points at length. Had Ba’kif still been alive, Ar’alani imagined that he would have fought tooth and nail, denying the syndics and patriels assembled their frequent recesses until he had shaped them to his will. 

Alas, she did not have the same sway, and regardless of her status within the military hierarchy, she still sat beside Thrawn. None of her colleagues had ever shown the man beside her the respect or compassion he was due - not even as a brilliant commander, but simply as a fellow being under the Ascendancy’s rule.

The Ascendancy had failed Thrawn from the first, Ar’alani had realized, long, long ago. So few people understood him, even fewer attempted to, and it was so very rare that people would consider that it was a boon for the Ascendancy overall that his mind worked that much differently from the rest. It was a failing on their part for not considering collaboration versus caging. Mitth’raw’nuruodo had never been perfect, but he had devoted himself - body, mind, and spirit - to the greater good.

And that dedication had so dearly cost him. 

He was quieter than he had been when he left, his self-confidence so obviously shaken. He seemed more pensive, almost accepting that this place would never be accepting of him. She saw beyond that, too. She still saw the young man who had asked her why he could not see things the way she did, the one who was desperate to succeed, to defend and protect, who would always lay down his life for the betterment of the ascendancy. He had been knocked down farther than she would have ever liked to see him.

The panel judging him could see that. They saw it as weakness, anticipation that he had already been defeated.

He had, once. The admirals who had previously dictated his fate had weighed his actions against their present situation, had decided that if exile had been his only option - which, it hadn’t been but they were small-brained, closed-hearted fools with no real understanding for the true forces at work around them - that they would take that unwavering dedication and they would use it to their advantage.

They would lose this, Ar’alani realized, come the fifth day of proceedings. These Chiss leaned heavily on the old rulings, the ones from more than two decades ago that had decided Thrawn's original exile. That he was right about the threats that plagued him mattered not because Thurfian had amassed enough power and influence in his old age to hold Thrawn accountable to an unjust ruling that none could overturn.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo was exiled on a technicality," Thalias said sternly on the sixth afternoon, during which the panel had said they would deliberate after and render an immediate judgement. "It was a deliberate move made by then-Syndic Mitth'urf'ianico due to what he claimed was the 'will of the family.'"

"Thalias-" Ar'alani hissed. The woman had been quieter than Thrawn, though she had pulled plenty of displeased and downright outraged faces during the proceedings. Most of all, she had been quite obviously impatient.

"That is quite a statement," The Mitth's speaker said. "Patriarch Mitth'urf'ianico is the esteemed leader of our family-"

"Patriarch Mitth'urf'ianico fabricated the reasoning behind Thrawn's exile," She said. "He made quite a few deals to remove one of the brightest military minds in current history from our military, preventing him from completely identifying the threats that would come against us, simply because he was afraid."

Ar'alani sighed. She had always had her suspicions. Things had lined up a little too nicely. She and Ba'kif had tried looking into it, but their hands had been tied and Thurfian had been watching. And then, when the Grysks made themselves known and Thrawn had established himself in the empire, it had hardly mattered anymore.

"And you have evidence?" Thrawn asked softly. 

Thalias pulled an envelope from within the folds of her formal robes and slid it across the table they sat at. Ar'alani's eyebrows rose, but it was Thrawn who had leaned forward, his long, slender fingers ghosting over the penmanship.

"He did not tell me you asked him for help," Ar'alani said, nodding to her human commander's all too obvious handwriting, neat instructions that insisted Thalias wait to present this information until the very end.

"We agreed not to tell you unless you asked," She murmured, indicating that Ivant had clearly been working on his own when Thalias had approached him. She should have expected nothing less.

Thalias had a smile like a hot knife. She lifted the envelope and its concealed data from the tabletop and extended them to the Mitth's speaker, a son to their current Patriarch. "These data cards should show all the bribes, treatises, and agreements made by Mitth'urf'ianico to influence certain key individuals into agreement regarding Mitth'raw'nuruodo's exile."

"That kind of data correlation would be extraneous and extremely difficult," A rather concerned-looking patriel commented.

"For most of us, I believe it would be," Said Thalias. An officer took the data cards from them and approached the projector. The envelope remained open on the table. “Commander Ivant seemed rather convinced that this was something only he could do, and conveys his regret that our traditions do not allow for him to be here in person,” She said, most likely for Thrawn’s benefit. “But we believe you'll find the truth to be quite enlightening."


	9. Day 9: First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another "Chiss don't kiss" fic, aided by alcohol and the joys of discussion.

“She appeared quite interested, Commander,” Admiral Thrawn said, eyes bright and intrigued.

Yes, Vanto had grown quite used to that. Thrawn had always found it interesting when they attended these social gatherings. Thrawn was an alien, so of course no one would be interested in him. At least, they usually weren’t until they were drunk and forgot they were supposed to be high class, well-to-do xenophobes, and Thrawn sidestepped them as though they didn’t exist at all.

It hadn’t started happening to Eli until he’d hit lieutenant commander. Now, nearly a decade into his career, with a quite impressive list of accolades - which he attributed to Thrawn, but Thrawn so enjoyed waving off when he’d try and deflect as was polite and respectful (and, in Eli’s opinion, HONEST) - the offers he would get when he was at these core world galas had become excessive. This was the fourth woman this evening to try and procure him a drink, then food, then offer herself to him for a dance, and if he wasn’t interested in dancing perhaps she knew a place they could go for something more-

“I’m sure she was,” Eli said. “I’m sure I’d be quite the notch in her bedpost.”

“Ah,” Thrawn mused, lips pursed and reserved. Eli had explained that particular phrase the first time Thrawn had been spectacularly hit on at a fundraiser on Chandrila, to the general bemusement of Colonel Yularen. “Well,” He mused, with a particular glint in his eye “You do not have to hold back on my account.”

Discarding decorum for a moment, Eli rolled his eyes. “Sir, not that it is particularly any of your business, but,” It had been five galas now that Thrawn had attempted to act as his wingman and it was getting really karking old, “She is _not_ my type.”

“What of the other women who-” Thrawn frowned as Eli’s look trended entirely more deadpan. “You do not enjoy the…” It had been a while since Thrawn had struggled to parse the correct, polite term, but he managed, “Company of women.”

“Not especially,” Eli answered, cheeks warming. “I thought you’d have gathered as much by now.” After five events in which he had politely turned down every single potential suitor - and there had actually been a man or three in there.

“I did not wish for you to limit yourself on my account,” He replied. “I am perfectly capable of conducting myself-”

Eli groaned. “Sir, do _you_ want to be solicited by any of these people? Male, female, or otherwise?”

Thrawn looked scandalized. Eli crossed his arms and began crossing the room, toward the bar. Message received, Eli thought.

“So what _is_ your type?” Thrawn asked him sometime later, after they had made their rounds, and all that remained was waiting until it was late enough to leave. He rested his elbows on the bar, hands folded beneath his chin. The holonews had made a complete cycle, and all of this information was old to a man as connected as Thrawn was, anyway.

“Intelligent,” Eli said, adding quieter, “Certainly more intelligent than these people. Credits do not correlate to mental output, I’ll tell you that much.”

That almost won Eli a smile, he could see Thrawn take a casual sip of his whisky, eyes scanning the room as he considered the answer he’d received. “And you prefer men,” He added thoughtfully.

“Are you trying to be my wingman again, sir?”

“Wingman?”

“I thought you might know that one,” Eli said, setting his now empty tumblr of gin on the bar. It was immediately refilled by a server droid and he picked the clear liquid back up. “I know you’ve piloted a fighter before.”

“I have never told you that,” Thrawn pressed him.

“Educated guess,” Eli answered mildly. “You weren’t a pilot, but I’d guess whatever formal training you had before you got here included a little bit of everything.”

There was a moment in which Thrawn inclined his glass to Eli, like a nod, wordlessly conceding the point. “Well done, Commander,” He said, after draining his drink. “Back to our original topic: A wingman is like a fellow pilot?”

“Yeah. Using it as slang usually denotes someone who’s trying to help you get laid.”

“Ah,” Thrawn hummed. “I admit I was more curious than acting as such.”

“I know. You like cataloging reactions, sir.” He smirked a little. “By now, I’m well aware you like to meddle.”

“I cannot tell if you mean that positively.”

Eli looked into his drink like it might have the answers. It didn’t. “I probably didn’t if you’d heard me say it a few years ago.” He shrugged, his shoulders straining in the tight stitch of his dress uniform.

“And now?”

“I expect it. You certainly make things interesting.”

The evening continued like this, the two of them drinking a healthy amount of liquor. Eli knew he’d be feeling it in the morning, but resolved for once to enjoy himself with Thrawn’s attention turned so entirely towards him. He was good conversation, and seemed to pick and choose interesting bits of information to ask about. 

It had been on their way back, Eli clearly doing the purposeful stagger of the intoxicated in the crisp night air, that Thrawn had let loose some information that astounded him. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, having to stop moving so he could process his commanding officer’s words. “Really? Never?”

“It is a cultural nuance we do not share,” Thrawn agreed seriously. He was steady, all feline grace and poise, but if he was sharing, he had to be at least somewhat liquor-addled. Nearly a decade and the man hadn’t said more about his people than it took to debunk all of Eli’s childhood stories.

“You’re missing out,” Eli decided, letting the words fly without thinking. “With the right person, it’s good.”

“How does one tell if it is the right person?” Thrawn wondered like a scholar, not a half-in-the-bag, well-decorated officer who had just spent way too much time drinking to avoid unnecessary discussions. “Do they have to be your type?”

“It helps,” He supplied helpfully. “Though I’ve been kissed by people I wasn’t particularly attracted to who knew what they were doing.”

“The woman in the blue dress from Alderaan? I thought she might have followed us back to our hotel.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He said. That had been the second gala, after his promotion and Eli felt very certain Thrawn was egging her on. “And no. She tried to shove her tongue down my throat after I’d all but told her I was gay.”

Thrawn gave him an almost sympathetic smile. “Perhaps she thought it might change your mind.”

“Well, it didn’t.” He considered Thrawn. “You never did tell me what your type was.”

They entered their hotel, five blocks from the event they’d attended, and Thrawn pondered that while they moved through the lobby to the lift that would take them to their twenty-third floor accommodations. When the doors closed, Thrawn looked at him. Eyes first, then lips. He said nothing.

Thrawn used the scanner in the doorway to open their suite. There were two bedrooms - a larger one for Thrawn, as was customary, and a smaller one for his aide on the other side of the common room: an open space with a desk and terminals built into the center of it, as well as a recessed half-circle sitting space that faced an impressive floor to ceiling window.

Instead of procuring his datapad from his travel bag, or activating the terminal to check his messages, Thrawn stood in the middle of the room and considered Eli. “How did you determine what your type was?” He asked.

He motioned toward the sitting space and Eli followed him. “I know what I like because I know what I don’t,” He said. It wasn’t the kind of information he’d be volunteering if sober, and he’d likely hate himself because he knew for a fact he wasn’t too drunk to remember. Not that Thrawn had ever held personal information over his head. Besides, he’d seen Eli falling-down drunk before. That had been his early days, and these events were old hand by now.

“I do not particularly care about gender,” He said. “I obviously require intelligence to be-” He said the word for attraction in Sy Bisti. It meant something more appropriate in the trade language, like mentally and physically arresting, a more pointed term for that kind of stimulation. “Honor and loyalty, as well.”

“Yeah, I sort of figured as much,” Eli said.

“Did you?”

Eli hummed indulgently, leaning back against plush cushions. “Attraction isn't just about being attractive physically. At least, it isn’t to me.”

Thrawn’s eyes glittered, assessing.

“You’re wondering if I think you’re my type, aren’t you?” Eli said serenely. “And if I’ve had too much to drink.”

“I am wondering if we have both had too much to drink,” The Chiss answered, voice dipping significantly.

Eli shivered at it. “Probably, but it’s far from the worst night out we’ve had.”

“That is a fair statement,” Thrawn supposed.

They sat silently, looking out toward the glowing lights of the city below. Eli turned away from it after a moment, looking up at Thrawn’s face in profile. “Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked. “I’d probably hedge a lot more about it if I was sober, but I definitely wouldn’t say no.”

“Are you certain?”

“Are you?”

They stared at each other. Eli sighed. “Just tell me,” He said, crawling across the low furniture, settling himself close enough that he could feel the heat that poured off of Thrawn, “If you want me to stop.”

Eli had never been particularly smooth or romantic. He’d had a few boyfriends when he was running cargos for his family, and a few brief flings in the academy. But since Thrawn, there had been nothing. He was sure he’d be heinously rusty. 

And yet.

He guided Thrawn with a hand on his cheek, catching him with lips already parted. Thrawn tasted like whisky and something foreign - something that wasn’t human. It was good, Eli thought, as Thrawn moved to match him, lips moving tentatively against his. But it wasn’t about him. He kept it brief, pulling back after a moment and a particularly gentle flick of his tongue against Thrawn’s lower lip and teeth. He’d expected Thrawn to keep his eyes open, to study him and analyze the strengths and weaknesses of the action. But when Eli pulled back, Thrawn trailed forward, as if to chase the sensation. His eyes had been closed. Eli waited until they fluttered open.

“Did you like it?” Eli asked, genuinely curious.

Thrawn pulled him into his lap by his shoulders, and stars did Eli groan at the impatient nip to his lower lip that came afterward. The admiral was a fast learner.


	10. Day 10: Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of our Day 1 prompt. Thrawn visits his aide after an unsatisfying interrogation.

At a glance, it did not look like Vanto was breathing. Thrawn closed his eyes, forced himself to breathe through his nose, to focus on the pungent smell of bacta and disinfectant, then opened them to evaluate the monitor that captured every one of the man’s metrics. He approached the side of the bed cautiously, luminous eyes noting that the medics had chosen to keep his core temperature colder than usual.

He hadn’t realized what he was doing until he’d felt just how cold Vanto’s skin was, how it felt like ice against his bruised knuckles. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to return to that interrogation room, wrap his fingers around their throats-

“Hey,” Vanto said groggily, eyes fluttering open a crack. They watered from the effort. His voice was hoarse from intubation - because he’d stopped breathing after he’d been recovered - and, before that, the screaming that Thrawn had made himself listen to, due to the torture he had suffered because Thrawn and Faro had not listened to his concerns, had assumed that he was simply wavering in his resolve.

Thrawn stilled his hand. 

"It's not as bad as it seems, sir," Vanto said, the words thick with exhaustion and his native drawl, "'Just need some time in bacta and it'll be like nothing happened." He hated bacta, Thrawn knew. That he was seemingly looking forward to it confirmed that it was indeed as bad as Thrawn imagined it was.

"Yularen said that you asked for me," He replied, instead of saying other things that warred in his mind for the permission to slip past his lips. Each blink brought back a memory. Vanto strung up, hallucinating from pain, his captors telling Thrawn how it could stop. Worse, Vanto swearing at them, vowing that Thrawn would never give into their requests, that he wasn’t the way to get to the Commodore, that it didn’t matter and they should kill him and get it over with already. 

He hadn’t begged. Not for it to stop, not for them to provide relief. He’d endured. Thrawn was immeasurably proud of and even more worried about him. They had never discussed this. They had been captives, and they had been in dangerous situations. But this had been malicious, targeted.

Breathing heavily, Vanto looked at Thrawn, his dark eyes fever bright, his skin pale and clammy, his mouth wrenched thin with pain. "Did you kill them?" He asked, not judging, merely curious.

"I want to." Thrawn answered honestly, eyes glittering with fury. "I merely interrogated them."

"Yularen?"

"Yularen," Thrawn confirmed. If it had been any other, someone he did not know or respect, Thrawn would have enacted slow, brutal torture until those responsible for this were incapable of begging for the end.

“I want you to, too,” Vanto hummed and closed his eyes. "You got my message,” He said, minutes later. 

Thrawn was reminded of how Vanto had lied through his teeth, telling them Thrawn wouldn’t come for him, even as his fingers twitched with information that only Thrawn could interpret. He shoved down more complex, self-loathing emotion. This was not about him.

"I did," He said. He wanted to say more, but found the words failing him.

The human settled back, eyes smudged black with bruisng and exhaustion, gaunt face stilling yet again. Thrawn hated it. Thrawn should have listened. Vanto always had his doubts, but he’d come to trust Thrawn and that had blown up in his face. At the least, between himself and Faro, they should have-

"You know," Vanto said, when Thrawn pulled his hand away. He did not open his eyes, "You can't know everything that's going to happen."

"I am aware." Logically, these sorts of things happened. No being was perfect, and not every outcome was knowable in advance. Still, this could have been prevented. “Yularen suspects High Command might have been involved.”

“He told me. Probably some old friends of Ghadi’s,” Eli exhaled, chest rattling a little and Thrawn cast his eyes up to the monitor. His vital signs had begun to drop. He would need intervention sooner rather than later. 

Thrawn hated everything about this, but most of all, he hated feeling so absolutely useless. “They should submerge you,” He murmured, more to himself than anything. “I will call the medics.”

Eli hummed, casting about to try and catch one of Thrawn’s hands where they were clenched on the bed rail. Thrawn caught it before he could miss and course-corrected, squeezing his hand in a way he hoped might be considered reassuring. With his unoccupied hand, Thrawn hit the call button, waited patiently for one of the medics to answer, summoned them, then cancelled the call all-together.

“You staying?” Eli asked in the silence that followed, Thrawn felt rage at how weak his voice was. “You don’t have to.”

Of course Thrawn was staying. His logical mind knew there was nothing to be done for Eli here and now, yet he knew he would hardly be productive if he returned to the _Chimaera_ overnight. The best thing he could do was satisfy the needs of his overthinking mind, to convince himself that everything would be fine, let the emotional response run its course. More than that, if Vanto wanted him to stay, he owed the younger man at least that much.

“I am.”

He watched on, surprised at the way his lieutenant commander relaxed, noticing the contrast between his present state and the previous tension. “Good,” Vanto said. “I hate being dunked.” It was not claustrophobia that bothered him. In fact, Thrawn understood his concerns. Being submerged in bacta meant being sedated, meant sensory deprivation. It was too defenseless a position for someone who valued control. It was far worse for someone who had spent the better part of the last several weeks in captivity.

Thrawn considered that, his eyes narrowing at the door. “I will remain planetside until you are stable enough to be moved to the _Chimaera,”_ He said. “You have my word.” Eli squeezed his hand in response, grateful.


	11. Day 11: Culture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli visit's the Mitth family's homestead on Csilla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really short, and really stupid. I have a weird obsession with making Thurfian Thrawn's arch-nemesis.

There were certain things one just didn’t do. Certain things that would cause a fuss, stir up trouble. Eli had spent his entire life trying to go with the current, not fight, not cause unnecessary arguments. He fought hard to please his superior officers and worked hard on his tasks - both the ones others knew about, and the ones that most didn’t. 

This, Eli knew, would not end without issue. Chiss outsiders did not know about Csilla’s interior. Of course, Ar’alani had mentioned it to him, as she had mentioned several other key secrets necessary for him to complete the analysis tasks she’d assigned to him, but conversations and impromptu visits were two very different kinds of experiences.

“Come, Eli’van’to,” Thrawn said to him, all regal decorum. Humans on the Chiss homeworld were unprecedented and therefore very likely illegal. A human at the family homestead? Someone was likely going to try exile Thrawn - again - for bringing him.

He had learned to school his features into something just shy of Chiss stoicism. It helped when his expressions were usually 80% worry and 15% frustration, depending on the situation. He’d managed to learn how to make his frowns appear grave and stern instead of anxiety stricken. He would probably have to keep it up for hours, until he was inevitably banished to some out of the way, long-forgotten guest room.

The family’s staff - maids and butlers and chefs, the whole gamut of servants - stared at him openly. Thrawn paid them no mind, issuing instructions that left the butler who had come to take their travel bags looking quite stricken. 

“Sir, are you sure I should be here?”

“That is the forty eighth time you have asked since I invited you,” Thrawn replied breezily. In Basic, Thrawn's tone was usually deadpan. In Cheunh, it had more overt character. 

“And it’s the forty-eigth time you’ve answered him incorrectly, I'm sure,” Came a stern voice from a nearby sitting room. “At least he understands his place.”

“Lovely,” Thrawn said, taking Eli by the shoulders. “Follow my lead,” He added, and squeezed reassuringly.

Eli met his gaze. Thrawn’s eyes glittered with something that seemed far too pleased, and way too mischievous. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

Thrawn’s smile made Eli’s gut flutter, and not in a good way either.

“Patriarch Mitth’urf’ianico,” Thrawn said, entering the sitting room with an almost exaggerated bow. He gestured to Eli, who appeared next to him quite sheepishly, like he was a breathtaking artistic display. “I present to you my intended, Eli’van’to.”

“You do _what?”_

Eli cast an insanely surprised glance at Thrawn, who watched him quite expectantly. He wouldn't give Thrawn the satisfaction of seeing them both caught off guard. Even if he really karking was, he thought. Thrawn had been back in the Ascendancy for less than a month and Eli had long since resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't make it out of this unscathed. “It’s an honor to meet you, Patriarch." He cast a sideways, split-second glance at Thrawn and decided the bow had been Thrawn trying to get himself removed from the family.

Maybe _that_ was why Ar'alani had briefed Thrawn before sending them both on leave.

“You’re trying to send me into an early grave,” The Mitth Patriarch accused Thrawn.

Thrawn uttered something that suggested Thurfian was too stubborn to die, and Eli sighed, settling in to experience what would undoubtedly be the most awkward shore leave of his life.


	12. Day 12: Off Guard (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli gives Thrawn a different take on intimate relations. (Explicit, though not terribly graphic.)

They had started sleeping together out of curiosity. Thrawn had been curious, and Eli had never been able to hide the more human aspects of attraction from the heat-sensitivities of Thrawn's gaze. Thrawn had expected this to be another area where he would lead. Eli had insisted such things were mutual, that it wasn't an extension of work, that there were no specific roles one or both had to take. And yet, Thrawn knew differently.

The first several times had been about learning, less about pleasure as it was about learning a new partner. After that, patterns emerged. It was selfish in a way. Thrawn craved knowledge, wanted to learn how a human - how Eli - took their pleasure and the differences therein. He wanted to see how far he could push, how much power he could be given over that human - over Eli - not to abuse, but simply to have, to insinuate it could be wielded.

Except, Thrawn had shown him how to assess and predict the moves of ally and enemy alike. Eli was an intelligent man. He might take more time, and need to work on some of the rhetoric - and gain some self-confidence - but he was tactically astute. 

In the course of their liaisons, Thrawn had eventually decided that he enjoyed Eli's dark skin, how it was always hot and soft and sensitive. He liked that Eli was smaller than he was. That he was lean and narrow but not weak, that when Thrawn wanted to be rough Eli leaned into it completely and let him slake that primal urge to _claim._

As such, Thrawn did not plan on losing, nor would he ever willingly give up his iron-clad control. Not Eli had never attempted - or seemed to _want_ to attempt - to wrest it from him. He had come into their arrangement understanding the kind of man he was involved with, and Thrawn had demanded that he had understood himself and his own expectations before he agreed to Thrawn's very casual, most-definitely-only-recreational, invitation. And that was when Eli had told him once that he had to have an emotional attraction to the person he was involved with, that some humans could not properly enjoy intimate encounters without it. Given their working relationship and Thrawn’s continuous education in the art of tactics, that requirement was well met.

Thrawn didn’t entirely understand it. Or, specifically he did not feel that way himself. He had always found release to be a mechanical, physical experience. That, partners or not, it all ended the same. Eli enjoyed intimacy, he’d learned. He did not demand it of Thrawn, and he certainly didn't ask for it - he hardly ever asked for anything as it wast, but Thrawn had taken to noticing the way they laid together afterward. Sometimes they talked about whatever they had been working on earlier in the day, most times they didn't. 

During those wordless moments, Eli would become bold, fingertips tracing scars or muscle or simply touching, his eyes half lidded, seemingly no pattern to it. The gentleness of such gestures - sometimes it was his foot warm and solid against Thrawn's calf - were strange and unfamiliar. They were not unpleasant so much as they were peaceful, a strange stillness despite the action. It felt as if this time between them existed in a vacuum.

He had contemplated it far longer than he'd cared to admit, it had swirled about it in the nebulae of his mind for near-constant conscious and subconscious consideration for months before he'd said something. 

"You don't like it?" Eli asked him when he finally brought it up, fingers stilling somewhere south of a knife mark from years earlier. He pulled back with a slowness to it that spoke of both a desire to continue and a desire not to make things worse."I'll stop-"

"I did not say that. You do it often, and I merely wished to understand why."

"Your people aren't very tactile, are they?" Eli rolled over, still laid bare beside him, cheeks flushed pink from the effort his earlier pleasure had taken.

"I don't see how that is relevant to your actions."

Eli raised an eyebrow as if that was some insinuation one way or the other. He fixed Thrawn with a rather steady, but gentle gaze. "Well, I like touching you," He began. "Touch is… I don't know, grounding, in a way. I like to be in this moment with you without thinking about the million other fires we have to put out the moment we leave your bed. But if you don't like it, I certainly don't gotta-"

"Proceed," Thrawn said, looking away. "I was merely trying to understand the rationality of it."

"Sometimes it's not about being rational," Eli said. "And if it's not hurting anything-" He made a point to scrutinize Thrawn's face, to look for any indication that the return of his fleeting touches actually did bother him, "I just do it, I guess."

"You are touching me simply because it feels good?"

"You fuck me bent into all sorts of positions because it feels good," Eli pointed out.

"And that is mutually beneficial. But after?"

"I'm not going to stroke your ego," Eli said. "Or bore you to death with bad metaphor," He added wryly, swinging himself to straddle Thrawn's waist and felt himself twitch with significant interest against the younger man's ass cheeks. "I like the intimacy of it," He said, rocking gently, " Of having a connection with my partner and knowing what they like."

"You presumed I would enjoy being casually touched," Thrawn reasoned aloud, doubtfully.

"I presumed," Eli said, coaxing Thrawn back to hardness with gentle, wave-like undulations of his hips, "That you don't get touched enough. Your mind is always stimulated. But what about your body? Even when you're sparring I know you're light-years away, focusing on the upcoming action." Eli spoke softly, so quiet that Thrawn had to focus on his lips to properly hear the words as he said them. "You think that hard and fast equates to being present. I won't lie and say I think I understand you or that I'm completely right - most of the time I'm dead wrong and I know it - but I think I just might be on to something with this." He guided Thrawn's hands to sit high on his hips, then adjusted himself and sank down, keen to begin again.

Eli had ridden him before, but not like this. Not slow, and unhurried, without that more base animalistic instinct. It wasn't edging. Thrawn had made Eli lust-drunk with denial before, had reduced him to mere atoms over it. 

This was different. There was time here. Time and space for exploration, so Thrawn took the time to do so, his own pleasure subdued somehow, but not entirely absent. In fact, when his desire made itself known once again, it came with something almost like desperation. It felt like he had been trapped in this sensation since they had started, incapable to focus on anything but the curling twist of pleasure coiled in his loins even as Eli’s slow, steady rhythm remained unchanged.

Thrawn hadn't realized he was asking for release - _him_ , not Eli - until Eli had smiled down at him, warm and content. A little dazedly, surprised, Thrawn realized his younger lover was not gloating, but simply happy. Thrawn would have baited him a little, would have sought to push that feeling higher by focusing Eli on it. Eli didn't. He began to move with a little more urgency, humming as Thrawn's hands ran up and down his back, kneading the muscle, unsure of where to hold on. Not thinking so much as doing.

When it was over, when Thrawn had shuddered silent and open-mouthed through the most unsuspectingly intense orgasm of his life, Eli took care to put the slightest distance between them. His knuckles still knocked back loose hair from Thrawn's forehead before his fingertips trailed down the side of Thrawn’s face. He didn't ask if Thrawn had liked it, didn’t cling or coddle.When Thrawn turned his head into Eli's chest, he laid a loose hand over Thrawn’s upper arm. They said nothing for at least eight minutes.

"Is this what it always feels like for you, after?" He asked into Eli’s heated flesh.

"Like you've been wrung out?"

Thrawn grunted. An affirmative, then.

"Sometimes," Eli agreed. "It’s nice once in a while, isn't it?"


	13. Day 13: Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn didn't always hate being held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for PTSD, because Space Whales.
> 
> I am not a medical professional. Thrawn really should seek professional help, but mental health stigmas and the Chiss seem like they're pretty standard.
> 
> Eli's here to prove it's okay not to be okay, he won't care about Thrawn any less.
> 
> PS: Early update because I have things going on the next few days.

Thrawn did not always hate being held. Eli knew this, because Thrawn had elbowed him in the nose hard enough to break it the first (and only) time his unconscious body had slotted in behind him after they had been reunited, his arm draping itself over Thrawn's midsection in their cabin aboard the _Springhawk_. Years previous, Thrawn had always sighed into that warmth pressed against his back, any tension held in his sleeping form bleeding away, vanquished.

When he thought about it, this change shouldn't have surprised him. Thrawn would undoubtedly protect himself, conscious or not, and Eli understood why. He had a very in-depth knowledge of just what had happened to Thrawn when they'd last parted ways, having been the one to question the Jedi Thrawn had brought back with him, to be the translator for all preliminary discussions. The arm around his waist or the leg slotting between his felt like purrgil tails to an unconscious vulnerable mind.

Eli also knew better than to bring it up, because Thrawn's coping mechanisms included stoicism and denial, the two pillars of Chiss "strength." 

And, most nights, it was alright. 

Others, it was far, far from it.

Thrawn remembered his nightmares. Eli could feel it in the way the man would tremble and jerk awake. He always got up afterward, refrained from looking at Eli, as if trying to recall where he was without shame, ultimately to focus. Most nights he would leave their shared rooms and go to the dojo, training as long as it took for him to burn the residual energy necessary to sleep. 

It was something Thrawn needed to process on his own, something he didn't want to share. Eli respected that. But Eli also counted the stims they kept in their fresher, how Thrawn pulled them from the back of the package so that Eli wouldn't suspect anything was amiss.

It never impacted Thrawn's duties or command. But it impacted him none the less. Eli spent those days coaxing him out of his thoughts (or the dojo) and relaying information he had tuned out, a parody of his time as Thrawn's aide.

Eventually, Thrawn would hit the wall. Ar'alani had already yelled at Eli for letting it go on when he admitted he knew what was happening, but she was worried, like him. And she knew, even as she told him to tell Thrawn how it was, that if that would have worked, she would have done it after his debriefing.

So when the night came that Thrawn woke, twitching and jerking before going too still, he'd been kind enough to kick Eli in the shin first. When Eli sat up, Thrawn lay beside him, eyes open and chest heaving, unable to move.

"Breathe," He said, the word biting with an edge of command. He touched the side of Thrawn's face, not a gentle caress so much as laying his hand on his cheek. "You're alright," He continued, resolving not to stare. "It'll pass."

He clocked it at four minutes and fifty seconds when Thrawn's body jerked, then slackened. His breathing paused and then stuttered again and he pushed himself up to a sitting position, shaking violently. "You were not surprised," He said, as if his will could abate the response of his sympathetic nervous system. He could not.

"No," Eli agreed. "But I think we need to talk about this."

"Sleep paralysis is a rarer side effect of stim use," Thrawn said.

Eli frowned. "Yes, if you go through a brick of them in a week, it's bound to happen," He said. "You've come close, but you're still not using that many."

The look Thrawn gave him might have scared him years earlier. It didn't scare him now.

"Yes," Eli said. "I know when you take them. One of the other side effects is a loss of appetite." The look of suspicion and barely concealed rage slackened for only a moment as Thrawn turned his attention inward, considering.

"You've known," He said instead. His expression became more accusatory.

"I was trained by the best," He reminded Thrawn. "So do you want me to say it or will you?"

Thrawn crossed his arms and gave him a pointed look. "There is nothing to say."

"Bridger told me what he did to you," Eli said. He didn't say: _And that was horrific enough, but it saved you both_ or _I know what was waiting for you on Coruscant._ "You need to talk to someone about it."

"Like you?" Thrawn snarled, as if this were Eli's doing.

"Whoever you want," Eli said calmly. "Doesn't have to be."

Thrawn was already on his feet, fury deeply etched into the set of his jaw and his forehead. "Yes, I'm sure-"

"If there _wasn't_ something wrong with you, Thrawn, I'd be more worried," He said, when Thrawn made it clear he was going to leave. He didn't try to stop him. Thrawn was a grown man, one with nearly fifteen years on him.

He would get over it, or he wouldn't. It didn't change that Eli was going to be there for him.

-/

It was three weeks, two very terrified medics with orders from Supreme Admiral Ar'alani, and exactly sixteen words spoken directly to Eli later that the Chiss found his way back into their bed. Eli did not begrudge him his cold shoulder, did not comment about how Thrawn was sleeping in his office, assuming he slept at all. Thrawn had been moody, miserable, and downright difficult for people to work with. He was not impolite, but he had surely tested the boundaries of cordiality with Eli specifically.

Now, he pressed himself up against Eli's back, Eli waking at the feel of the cooler body beside him, Thrawn's arms and legs curling over him.

"I do not like this," Thrawn said, pressing his face into the juncture of Eli's neck and shoulder, pulling him into an embrace from behind. "I want it to stop."

"I know," Eli agreed, voice thick with sleep. It lessened as he continued. "What can I do?" 

The Chiss exhaled. Every word was slow, difficult. "I do not know where to begin."

"You already have," Eli said. "Did it happen again?"

"Twice," He muttered. "I was able to break out of it the first time, however the second…" He trailed off. "That was why you touched my face," He said.

"I did some reading," Eli agreed. "I'll send you the files."

"Thank you," He murmured, lips brushing the skin behind Eli's ear. "I did not mean to wake you," He said. "I didn't think about where I was going, I simply-"

"You can always wake me," Eli answered, turning over in Thrawn's arms, facing him. He did not reach out. "I don't care."

"I do not understand what I need to overcome this," He said. "It is not simple."

"No, but we'll figure it out." He smiled, pressing a very gentle kiss to Thrawn's lips and accepting the more insistent one that came back.

"You used to be more…" Thrawn gestured, nodding to the way his arms wrapped around Eli, holding him as close as was possible.

"Clingy?" Thrawn glared at him. He sighed. "You gave off indicators that that wasn't exactly pleasant," Eli pointed out. "But if you want me to-"

Thrawn nodded once. "I did not always dislike it," He added, a bit regretfully. 

"Yeah, I know." He pulled away and waited for Thrawn to finish glaring at the lack of warmth. He fixed the Chiss with a stern look. "Only if you promise you'll tell me when it stops being alright."

"I am sure-"

"On your honor," Eli said, seriously.

"Fine. I swear it," He said, using the most old-fashioned Cheunh possible. It was just shy of petulant. 

"I'm not kidding. I wanna help," He said, already scooting closer, opening his arms. 

"This is helping," Thrawn said, nudging his head beneath Eli's chin, unsubtly nudging him onto his back so that he could better lay his head on Eli's chest. "You were the one who contacted Ar'alani?" He asked quietly. "Both medics requested transfers."

"I won't apologize for that," Eli said gravely. "I'm not sorry about it."

Thrawn grunted. "Don't be," He said, voice more of a purr than anything. Eli could feel him slowly relaxing, his weight heavy, slowly warming as Eli held onto him. That lack of sleep was no doubt catching up. "I know I can be stubborn," He said, not quite an apology.

"Only a little," Eli teased.

Another grumble. Eli kissed his brow.


	14. Day 14: Date Night

Eli picked burned scraps of his jacket out of the glancing blaster burn on his arm. Typical, he thought. That was his _nice_ jacket. As in the only one he had that wasn’t military standard. His arm smarted, but more than anything, he was furious that he’d fallen for it. Again. 

Thrawn had said that this was a night out,not _Commander, I know where to catch our smugglers. We shall leave this evening and conceal ourselves in plain sight._

As if reading his thoughts, the Chiss said, “I did not wish to make you overthink the situation.”

“I _have_ been undercover without you, you know,” He drawled in Basic, to the confusion of the restaurant’s patrons and the smugglers alike. It was a wonder Thrawn didn't still call him ensign sometimes, Eli swore. Nevermind that he'd been on his own in the Unknown Regions for half a decade before he found his way home. “You could’ve told me and I might’ve even put on a show.”

Thrawn grinned at him. “You are still welcome to do so.”

Eli rolled his eyes in reply. Meanwhile, one of the smugglers that had yet to be incapacitated took what they thought was advantage of the situation, thinking he'd caught Eli unawares. He paid for it. Eli used the larger being's momentum, flipping them over his shoulder despite the minor injury and sending them on a collision course with the ground. Thrawn's eyes glowed eagerly, watching the motion, the way Eli's chest and shoulders heaved, body alight with color and heat in the infrared spectrum only he could see.

"You’ve been training," He said.

Eli rolled his eyes harder, sidestepping another man who had come out of the restaurant's kitchen. "This is brawlin'," He argued. "I've always been good at throwing punches." To prove it, he threw a haymaker at the newcomer, dropping them instantly. Thrawn conceded the point with a regal inclination of his head. Normally that kind of stare, that kind of intensity focused only on him would do things for Eli, but he was pissed.

Still, there was no reason they couldn’t work this out, per se. Hands coming to rest on his hips, Eli met Thrawn’s rather predatory grin with one of his own: a sarcastic, heated thing. After all, Eli had no doubt that was what Thrawn _really_ wanted. And after this? He’d be working for it. 

"The next time you want to go out," Eli told him, "We're staying in."

“I look forward to it,” Thrawn quipped.


	15. Day 15: Loss

Admiral Ar'alani had prepared for this situation. She had enough experience to know that the galaxy had a cruel sense of humor. She had considered her words carefully and reflected upon potential outcomes, plotting her way forward through them. She had been ready for this conversation.

Or so she thought. 

None of her preparations or considerations had accounted for, well, _this._

The Mitth'raw'nuruodo who had been returned to her from the now-failing Galactic Empire was fragile.

And she had just told him that the one he had sent, his protege, one of his only true friends (she had very unapologetically read that journal), was missing. More accurately: presumed dead following a recent Grysk altercation. There was a chance he had survived. However, there were no plans to go find him or his ship, to recover a body.

Thrawn was pacing in her office. He looked terrible - but taking him off duty meant not being able to watch him and he needed close supervision. He had lost too much weight since she had seen him last - aboard his flagship nearly two years ago. She knew that his torso was covered in scars from what the Jedi had done to deliver him from one fate by passing judgement and rendering another.

He did not look at her or even her memory wall, nor did he appear to be seeing much of anything as he stared into the middle distance. She had expected anger or even muted sadness. But the numbness was not good. He was holding it in, pressurizing his feelings, bottling them up. 

Yes, he was fragile. Visibly so. Ar'alani would not let him break if she could help it.

She stepped into his path without a word. He did not run into her, but his gaze was downturned. He would not lift his eyes. She lifted his chin, and still he looked away from her.

"Look at me, Thrawn," She murmured, fingers holding his chin. He was not stupid, did not buck back or try to get away from her cold fingers, but he did not move. She would not order him to do this. "He was a good commander," She began carefully. And, "I know he was… _important_ to you."

Thrawn did shrink back then, crossing his arms. "Vanto wouldn't have done what you suggested he did. He knew better, I told him-"

"Ivant acted to save Chiss lives, not to preserve his own," She interrupted, with all the patience of an older sibling. "A trait he no doubt inherited from you."

He did not crumble, exactly, but she saw the defeat in his eyes. It hurt her to watch him try and fail to process this. "He could have survived,” Thrawn countered. “Someone could have."

"It was a small ship," She said. "Thirty crew, one commander. We ran a scan and sent a salvage team."

"And?"

She sighed, hating the bitter tinge of desperation she heard him will away. "There was an escape pod missing," She told him. "But the planet they were over was hostile. We found the pod but couldn't recover it."

"And the scanners?" It hurt to watch him grasp at the smallest flicker of hope. He had always been fragile, she knew. Not on the surface. Not noticeably. But on the inside…

She hated that she had to lie to him. She hated that he would understand it when she came clean. But she would do her duty.

 _Ba'kif needed him for a delicate operation,_ She wanted to tell him. _Ivant was watched too closely here to be able to leave without alerting the families. This was the only feasible way. The timing of your return was an unfortunate coincidence, and his only reservation. He is a testament to your teachings and he will be fine. Ba'kif thinks that he is in love with you. I think - no, I know - that you love him in return._

"There were no sentient life signs reported in a fifty kilometer radius,” Ar’alani reported instead. She did not mention that such a thing had happened by design. She couldn’t. “I am sorry, Thrawn."


	16. Day 16: Fight

Of all the fever dreams Thrawn had suffered thanks to his injuries after the _Chimaera_ had been run to ground, this was, to his great surprise, not one of them. He and Bridger had been picked up and double crossed - as he had expected - by pirates who were their only opportunity off the planet. There was also the insistence Bridger had that they had to take this opportunity. Thrawn did not like this option, but staying stranded in one place left them vulnerable to far more enemies.

Since then, Bridger, who had proclaimed himself as being capable of coercing these pirates into helping them, had been far less than successful. Of course, these pirates were not purely pirates at all, Thrawn suspected. They were bounty hunters, likely sent by Vader at Emperor Palpatine's request..

Thrawn imagined they would be paid an excessive amount for their marks, if he and the young Jedi did not manage to reclaim the ship and escape. Even death would be better than being captured. He and Bridger disagreed on much, but they seemed to be in agreement there. 

They were trapped in a cell together. Their captors had done something to make the Jedi's abilities impossible to control. Based on the shuffling around above them, skittering claws against durasteel, Thrawn suspected it was some kind of animal who was usually fed upon by Force sensitive creatures and had thus developed traits through evolution to naturally negate the effects of the Force to remain out of harm's way. Thrawn knew of several such creatures. It was a rather ingenious plan.

It was still a plan they had to thwart, and one they'd have to thwart before reaching the Outer Rim.

It was also one that apparently did not need thwarting, because someone else had beaten them to it. The ship lurched out of hyperspace, decklates beneath them buzzing with the motion, the ship kicking slightly as it slowed. The vessel itself was not particularly large and the cargo hold, though repurposed into a sort of cell block, was near the only docking port. 

“Well?” Hollered one of their captors. “Y’still offering double?”

The reply was too muffled by the walls, but must have been acceptable enough, because the mag-locks did not disengage. There were more footsteps, too.

He and Bridger exchanged a look. If there were ever to be an opportunity for escape, it would be now. While they were in transfer, or while one of these groups betrayed the other. Bridger seemed to understand, inclining his head slightly. An indication that if he could get free from whatever was hindering him, he’d use the Force. Thrawn gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. 

The silence - negotiations too quiet to be overheard through metal walls - yielded to chaos. Blaster fire and yelling ensued. The thinner outer door that separated the cargo hold from the rest of the ship slid open, the lead hunter came tumbling backwards, landed awkwardly, and sprang up with a hand on his belt. He reached for his blaster and froze.

Footsteps came down the small walkway between cells, heavy boots. Military tread. Potentially stolen, but-

“It’s a shame,” Came an unbelievably familiar voice, Thrawn rising to his feet and straining to see the newcomer as they approached. “If y’all didn’t have another ship tailin’ me, I would’ve paid up and been ony way. Not that Imperial Credits hold their value these days, but...”

“Figg, you bastard-”

Eli Vanto kept his own blaster trained on the bounty hunter’s chest, but his head turned, those familiar tang-bark flecked eyes meeting Thrawn’s. He cocked his head and smiled, half devastating pirate and half charismatically himself. 

“Hello, bright-eyes,” He said to Thrawn.

The hunter lunged at him, but Eli stunned him without issue and holstered his weapon. He crouched for a moment, retrieved the chip that would activate the lock, and let the barrier to their cell fall open.

“Our friends here were kind enough to inform me that you need a lift.”


	17. Day 17: Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Get to the point, Supreme General," Ar'alani said._
> 
> A follow-up to Day 15: Loss - one possible conclusion.

The anger alight in Ar’alani’s chest was not for herself. She stood before Ba’kif, who stood beside Ivant’s medi-bed, the human sitting on the edge of the rather uncomfortable cot, shoving his hands into his tunic with little care of how the material undoubtedly pulled against his stitches. Ba’kif wasn’t looking at him, too busy trying to defuse the furious admiral before him.

“You told me it would be a month, and it has been nearly a year!” She snarled at the general with every ounce of vehemence she could summon. Which was clearly a lot, based on the tiny twitch from Ivant, but he does not actively show his fear. He did not stop dressing completely until had gotten the sash over his shoulder buckled into place one-handed, one arm limp at his side because it should be in a sling.

“That specific sector under Vagaari control would have ruined us if we didn’t have someone infiltrate and you know it,” Ba’kif pointed out calmly. “I realize it is a lot, however-”

Ar’alani growled, “I am capable of basic tactical comprehension, thank you, General,” Her lips pulled back as she spoke, exposing her teeth like a predator preparing to strike. “But had I known you were installing Ivant long-term,” She seethed, “I would have gone against your orders and told him.”

“And you could have done so at any time,” Ba’kif pointed out. “However, you and I both know he would have tried to get himself involved and Ivant-”

Ivant looked between the two of them before nodding his head, mind made up about something. “Where is he?”

That wasn’t the tone to use when speaking to your superior officers, but his voice did not waver with uncertainty. “You need to be debriefed,” Ba’kif reminded him. “You shouldn’t even be discharged until-”

“I’ll write a report,” Eli pressed, in a way that suggested it wouldn’t be forthcoming immediately. Ar’alani resisted the urge to smirk. He levied his gaze against General Ba’kif, not glaring but not asking politely, either. “Now, where is he?”

Ba’kif sighed, realizing that he was seconds away from having two admittedly hot tempers directed at him. “Admiral?”

“The _Steadfast_. We may go now,” She said, fixing Ivant’s sash where it had become twisted. “You, she informed Ba’kif, “Will be coming with us. You will explain your part in this before you ask Thrawn to help you as I know you will. Do you understand?”

-/

“Ba’kif has something to tell you.”

Thrawn watched the general stare at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was capable of forcing the decision to tell Thrawn… whatever it was. He tilted his head, indicating he was paying attention. Ar’alani raised her eyebrows, indicating he should get on with it.

It didn’t seem to matter what rank someone was, when Ar’alani pushed, people did what she wanted. Ba’kif’s expression shifted to concern. “You heard about the incident a few months ago, yes? The Grysk attack on the _Inherent_?”

Thrawn nodded, looking down, then away. “I recall the admiral telling me about it,” He said. “Were you able to recover,” He swallowed and did not allow himself to continue.

“No,” Ba’kif said. “There wasn’t anything to recover,” He said, then ran a hand through his dark hair as if some unspoken weight had just landed upon him. He sighed. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, however, the admiral believes that silence on our part may not have been the best course of action, and she would like to spare you-”

“Get to the point, Supreme General,” Ar’alani urged him.

The general cleared his throat. “That event,” He paused, choosing his words carefully, Thrawn could tell, “It was designed to look like all souls aboard had been lost, either to the presumed attack, or the planet whose orbit they were close to at the time.” He exhaled, waiting for Thrawn to say something - but Thrawn wasn’t listening. 

Through the white haze that seemed to settle over his mind and the tenseness in his chest, he heard them carrying on, escalating between them, voices growing louder. He couldn’t process it because he couldn’t process anything. 

Eli Vanto _was not_ dead. And yet, everyone around them had felt his absence. They had _grieved_. Thrawn still-

“Thrawn?” Ar’alani sat on the edge of her desk, the side closer to where he was sitting. Ba’kif lingered like a stormcloud. “I did not wish to spring it upon you,” She began tentatively, speaking slowly as if to give his mind time to latch on to what he was saying. “However I also did not want him to return to the _Steadfast_ without so much as a word and surprise you.”

After a long, long moment, Thrawn said flatly, “This isn’t protocol. You need not coddle me.”

“No, I need not,” She supposed. “But I will do so anyway because I am your commanding officer and I find it prudent to do so in specific situations.”

“Such as this.”

“It was the Vagaari,” Ba’kif said, ignoring Ar’alani’s sharp glare. “We needed a human to infiltrate-” He sighed. “Ivant expressed his concern to me that we not lie to you, specifically, however I insisted that it was not proper protocol.”

“It is not,” Thrawn agreed, his voice hollow. He did not ask about the mission.

Ar’alani acted as if he had. “I just retrieved both the general, and our commander from a medical center planetside,” She said. She did not smile, but her eyes glittered almost softly.

“He would like to see you, if you would like to see him.” She watched him carefully. “He also said he would wait-”

Thrawn rose to his feet, looking briefly between them. “Permission to be dismissed,” He said, less a request, more a flat statement.

“This isn’t an official discussion,” Ba’kif began. “We-”

But Thrawn had already fled, the door’s hydraulic hatch closing automatically behind him.

-/

Two mugs of winterberry cider - sweet and spicy and most assuredly laced with something alcoholic - waited for him on the counter in his economy-sized officer’s quarters. The entirety of his suite smelled like it, like ice vines and the tiny indigo fruits mulled to create this mostly unknown drink. He had procured it for them once, paying quite a lot more than he should have for something commonplace among his people.

Thrawn ignored it, pushed away his memories of using it to celebrate Eli's long overdue promotion, of showing him just how much liquor to add to make it palatable, sweet but bracing.

“She put you in my quarters,” Eli mused aloud, words careful as he turned away from the viewport. “My biometrics still unlock the door.”

Thrawn ignored that, too. He strode across the room, determinedly, eyes locked on Eli’s face. He reached out, almost without thinking, fingertips stopping just shy of the other man’s cheek. “You,” Thrawn began, hoarsely. “You are unharmed?”

“A little banged up,” He whispered back. The moment was loud enough on its own. “But yeah, I’m alright.” His eyes flicked down to Thrawn’s chest, then back up. “You?”

“I have no physical ailments,” Thrawn confirmed.

“And not-physical ones?”

Thrawn exhaled sharply when Eli pushed his cheek into Thrawn’s hand, then cupped the back of that hand with his own, holding him there to insinuate his permission.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I’m so sorry you had to think-”

“I understand,” Thrawn said. And he did. He had needed to walk away, to clear his head. That cognitive dissonance was still there, he still felt fresh grief he could not reconcile with the living, breathing human before him, but-

“I don’t care if you understand,” Eli said, bringing his arms around him. “You’ve had enough.” His left arm was moving slower, unsteadily - it was injured, Thrawn realized, not the arm, but his shoulder. That thought was lost as he was assaulted with that familiar warmth, the way humans ran so much hotter than Chiss, that core temperature difference the difference between sun and shadow. It was familiar, but the embrace felt warmer than he remembered.

At least, as he’d been remembering it. His recollection of those scarce few moments had been fleeting and fading, slowly fogged by the lens of memory. 

Eli grunted when he brought his hands up to carefully encircle his upper back, but gripped tighter when Thrawn leaned forward, nose and face pressed into the top of Eli’s head, taking greedy lungfuls of air that smelled like him and standard issue personal cleanser. “I asked,” Thrawn whispered quietly.

“I thought you might have,” Eli whispered, knowing Thrawn would have chosen to confront his ghosts, to lie with them until the end. “I’m glad you’re here,” He said. “That we’re both here.”

“As am I.”


	18. Day 18: Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never, ever bet against Thrawn.

Never, ever bet against Thrawn.

It was something Eli had learned back at Royal Imperial, on Coruscant, eons ago. It could be any game - cards, dice, chance, sport, anything, and regardless of Thrawn's knowledge regarding the game, Thrawn would win. He'd pull, well, Eli had seen him pull all sorts of things out of what felt like nowhere at the time - from a hand of cards to literal theatres of war - and (according to Thrawn, at least) avoid defeat by a calculated margin.

Once, Eli has had his doubts. He had plenty of them, actually. He spent the first chunk of his naval career doubting Thrawn. He spent a lot of it angry and concerned, but he knew better. Beings like Thrawn weren't the kind you could find easily. They were rare and valuable resources, and, if one was lucky, a loyal, dedicated, _unique_ friend.

And as Eli had come to realize he had in Thrawn, so too did Thrawn have a friend in Eli. 

So when Thrawn was defeated, went missing, and the Chiss assumed he was dead, Eli told them what he knew in his heart: Thrawn had managed to survive, somehow.

Years later, when the remnants of an Empire who was doomed to failure without him began taking to the Chaos, Eli had his flagship emblazoned with that familiar twin snake-like design. It looked more ruthless and predatory on a sleek Chiss vessel as it was. He knew who they thought he was, and he knew they would target him, target his fleet rather than searching for the rest.

He also knew that if Thrawn were alive, he was hiding. And this - rumors of a ship with his insignia, of a ruthlessly efficient commander with a streak of unusual victories throughout the reaches of Chiss space - just might be enough to coax Thrawn out into the open. 

Eli did not waver. He let their defeats - the execution of swift justice for those still caught up in the glorious delusions of a dying beast or a clear outmaneuvering and disabling of those who searched for a place to lay claim - speak loudly. 

Chiss were not the charlatans Lysatran myths made them out to be. They existed on a different level, the field of play elevated much higher than the one Eli had left behind. Eli had found his place among them.

And when Thrawn resurfaced, like Eli knew he would: all concealed fury and cool intellect, Eli would be ready. His fleet would be ready. There was only one thing Thrawn could be doing. 

Thrawn was drawing the enemy out into the open, building them up, showing them to be the threat he had always known they would become. He would orchestrate their conflict. Perhaps he had known Eli would become self aware of his purpose, perhaps not. It didn't really matter.

Eli didn't mind being that trump card, the deciding factor in a winning hand. So long as they were on the same side, their enemies would not stand a chance.


	19. Day 19: Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli is able to read Thrawn better, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! I swear I'm getting all your lovely comments and they are huuuuuge motivation. I apologize for not replying before the next updates, I am having a super busy week. I promise I'll get back to you all shortly and I love and appreciate your support!!

Eli had grown used to the strange happenstance that was his life now. It had been a strange, surreal day several weeks earlier when the Chaos had all but spat out Thrawn (and his former enemy, _a CHILD Jedi_ ) in front of the _Steadfast_ in a barely space-worthy freighter. Since then, things had gotten, well, more interesting to say the least. It was good, though.

Being back in Thrawn's orbit was like coming home, in a lot of ways. They knew each other, their likes and dislikes and habits, and it was just… comforting to have someone who just understood without him having to explain.

If he had been younger he might have felt a little insecure about measuring up, might have automatically assumed Thrawn to prefer the company of his own species to the point of giving him a wide berth to save himself the disappointment. Eli did not. He had come into his own since he'd come to the Ascendancy. If that had been what Thrawn wanted, Eli would have made his peace with it, and been happy to have had the man as a friend and mentor.

But Eli had learned about the Chiss, too. How they were prideful, careful, _stubborn._ How they shied away from unique and unusual.

They did not understand Thrawn in nearly equal measure to the humans and other aliens Thrawn had encountered in his travels. Eli wouldn't fool himself. He tried to understand Thrawn, and maybe it was that openness, his own desire to understand, that made things between them a little easier. But Thrawn, like Eli - like anyone, really, but Thrawn moreso - would never be completely understood. 

Still, here - _home_ or close enough to it - Eli found Thrawn to be looser. More open. Though, perhaps it was simply that Eli had been given the tools to decrypt Thrawn, and he finally knew how to use them.

Eli didn't look at Thrawn and see _Chiss_ anymore. He saw prestigious military training and elite grooming that started young - Taharim academy. He saw the slightly pale milk-blue hue of his skin and knew he was winterborn - from a cold planet that was not Csilla, their skin was a deeper hue and softer, seemingly unexposed to planetside elements. He knew Thrawn preferred common leaf tea, not the fancy herbal brews from Csilla's reserve - though he drank it whenever Ar'alani brought it out, unwilling to let it go to waste.

He was not highborn within his birth family, Eli had figured out, though he had known Thrawn had been a merit adoptive. It was in the way he spoke. His accent - the softer pronunciation of his words, the pleasing lilt he wrapped them in - was from Rentor. His natural speaking voice, though laced with an undercurrent Eli would always associate with his talent for command considering now steady it was, was exceedingly pleasant to listen to. It did not have the whip-crack, salvo burst effect that Ar'alani's harsher tones did. 

Thrawn had been quieter since coming back, but most times they were off shift together, they would end up in some form of discussion. Either with words, or in the ship's officer-level training dojo with hands or sticks. It was different now.

Now, when they talked, Thrawn was still his usual brand of aloof, but Eli, who had been used to him speaking flat and even, heard marked emotions in his voice. Others did not pick up on those subtleties, could not equate the way he paused for breath or how his lips pursed around certain words to the emotions they concealed. Chiss were withdrawn regarding their deep emotions. They were overt about their political machinations and vanities.

And when words didn't cut it, Eli could read it in his stance. He saw the way Thrawn's shoulders drew back and down on the bridge, and it meant that he was relaxed. Or, the exceedingly predatory curve forward during their spars, the way he seemed to loom over Eli wishing to incite a reaction to burn off pent up emotion of his own. 

Thrawn had given him a copy of his journal, when Eli had left his side. Now, instead of dictating an entry to a datapad, he spoke to Eli of his innermost thoughts and reflections when meditation did not ease his mind or he had knowledge to share. They debated and drew closer. They were, Eli knew - as some part of him had always known - inevitable. 

And that had drawn the attention of their admiral, Ar’alani.

Ar’alani, who had known Thrawn first - who knew him more, who cared for him with the same kind of righteous fury, protective and stern as an older sister in all but blood - had seen the foundation of what they were building before it had become obvious they were building toward anything at all. She noted the way they would lean in to speak quietly, or sometimes how they would simply share glances without uttering a word between them at all.

"You are seeing each other," She said to Eli flatly one mid-shift months later, letting herself into his otherwise empty cabin and perching regally on the edge of his perfectly made bed.

"Is that not allowed, ma'am?" Eli had asked her. He had read up about fraternization after nearly half a decade in Chiss space. He had long since decided that he trusted Thrawn as he trusted himself - to make the right, albeit difficult decisions. 

Her lips were thin, her mind seeming to sift through possibilities. "I do not foresee any conflict," She considered. "You understand that he is different," She said as a question disguised as a statement.

"I do," Eli replied

"Your ideal plans and his may not..." She trailed off, watching him, expectant.

"There's an exhibition planetside," Eli said. "The historical district in the capital city has one of the largest museums in the Ascendancy."

"You are interested in museums?" She asked doubtfully.

"I'm interested in Thrawn, ma'am." He shrugged. "That's why I suggested it."

She inclined her head. "So you did," She supposed aloud. "I am certain he will enjoy it."

"I'm certain we both will."


	20. Day 20: Wild Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bright eyes? Really?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Cathouse_Mary for this one, it's almost nothing like we'd discussed but you put the thing in my head and hear we are haha. 
> 
> There are some references to intercourse here so don't take part if that's a squick for you. It's mostly comedy.

Ezra Bridger rubbed at his eyes. "You're kidding me," He said, as if that would change what he was seeing and hearing.

Bright eyes? _Really?_

"Not at all-"

"We're not kiddin' you at all-"

There was another look exchanged between them, strangely giddy and just really, really ridiculously unpleasant for Ezra. He just barely resisted the urge to make exaggerated gagging sounds. He rolled his eyes instead. Clearly these two knew each other. Since when did guys like Thrawn have friends?

Ezra had taken to the tiny fresher aboard the equally cramped freighter this guy - Eli Vanto, Thrawn had called him - had docked onto the pirate vessel. It was strange - no sonic, just running water. _Hot_ water. Ezra might never get out from under the spray. 

It wasn't until the end, when he had nearly run the water tank cold, that he noticed the small tremors, the way the dispensers of sanigel and some strangely labeled hair cleanser (going by the look of it) rattled in their trays. Was there something wrong with the hyperdrive? The ship definitely should not thump or rattle like this. He turned off the spray, intent to find out. 

Except, when he dressed in freshly sanitized clothes and slipped out into the very narrow hall that traversed the ship's center-length, all was quiet. He checked the engines anyway and found them to be quiet, and the hyperdrive buzzing a little, but nowhere near powerful enough to shake the fresher on the other side of the ship.

Weird.

Content that they probably weren't going to blow up en route to wherever Vanto was taking them, Ezra found the only empty cabin, and decided to get some rest…

… And woke, sometime later, to the sound of movement and voices and-

"You need to be quiet," Came a lilting drawl through the flimsiplast wall. It sounded wry and… _affectionate?_ "I know. I've got you."

Ezra's eyebrows made a break for his hairline when the sound of a half muffled moan carried through the still disastrously thin walls, followed by more shushing, a horribly strangled gasp of their rescuer's name and words spoken in a language definitely not even close to Basic.

What the hell was it with ex-Imps and aliens? Love was love, Ezra supposed in the case of his friend Zeb and the Imperial turned Fulcrum Agent Alexsandr Kallus. But this was _Thrawn_. Thrawn was all - he conjured up a mental image of the Chiss barking sharp orders at his crew and sneering at Ezra and his friends, trying to get them killed - and _art_.

The Jedi shoved a pillow over his head and clamped down on it. It wasn't like he was trying to sleep or anything. 

When it persisted, he groaned and forced himself to get up and bang around - _loudly_ \- in the galley, planning to eat any good food Vanto might have had stocked there. Of course, any rations were packed in weird bags he did not recognize, again marked in a language he did not know. In the end he settled for a mug of spicy and dark caf, and settled in to definitely not think about what was happening on the other side of the ship.

"You are up early," A voice called from the far hatch maybe an hour later. It was Thrawn, dressed in a pair of black pants and a matching undershirt. He looked relaxed. 

Ezra's mind was kind enough to find him exactly why that might be. "Karabast," He said, grinding the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Yeah, I'm up early because you and _'hello, bright-eyes_ ' were-" The Jedi flushed brilliantly and looked at a spot on Thrawn's forehead instead of meeting his eyes, unable to quantify Thrawn and someone else doing… _that_. "Well, you weren't quiet."

"I see." Ezra wasn't certain what the correct response would have been, but Thrawn's definitely wasn't the right one. He had no reaction at all, just that standard, blank look on his face. "I apologize. I was aware that most Jedi took vows of celibacy-"

"WHAT? No! I'm - that's not - I - ugh!" Ezra thunked his head against the table. "Make it stop," He muttered.

"-but considering the late Master Jarrus' relationship with General Syndulla-"

"Oh my Force. Stop talking!" 


	21. Day 21: Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli and Thrawn and Ascension Week on Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update 11/20 since I will be _busy_ tomorrow. Sunday's update may be a little delayed too, I started writing out of order because I had some _ideas_.

Empire Day was, well - it wasn't a holiday Eli had ever cared all that much about. He was loyal and served the Empire, but the Clone War had never done more than create business for the Vanto family's shipping company or make his mother worry about him hauling cargos on his own at the tender age of sixteen standard. 

On Coruscant, accompanying the now Admiral Thrawn, Eli had grown used to the nightmare that Ascension Week was. Business was conducted early in the evenings and then shoved aside entirely in favor of more… recreational activities.

Specifically, there wasn't a sober politician or senior officer planetside after 22:00 hours unless they were Colonel Yularen. 

You see, none of these socialite supreme, core worlders could hold their damn liquor. Thus, Eli would sip his seemingly watered down champagne, smile politely while all those political facades yielded to something ugly and honest with each server droid that came by to offer them another glass, and did his best to keep his CO out of trouble.

And then, when Thrawn was beyond tipsy but shy of blackout drunk - he, being of high rank and therefore increased popularity, was not able to dodge the overwhelming amount of toasts to the glory of the Empire - Eli would take him by the arm and steer him back to their hotel.

"How are you so-" The word for sober was in Sy Bisti. That was usually the first tell of Thrawn's deteriorating state. The Chiss knew a great many languages, but he had never entirely mastered Basic.

Eli tightened his grip on Thrawn's forearm, looping them around someone who definitely looked like they wanted to proposition them. He really didn't like Coruscant.

"Core world booze tastes like flavored water to me," He said idly. "You should eat something."

Thrawn dragged him past a street vendor, walking straight and purposefully, despite being drunker this evening than he'd been the three nights earlier. Those nights, Eli had managed to get him back to their hotel fed and watered, then left him to his own devices to ride out his inebriation.

"You are trying to make me less intoxicated," Thrawn said.

Eli inclined his head. "You want to be drunk?"

"Not especially," Thrawn admitted. He was still more reserved than most people, but he was less reserved when he was half in the bag, specifically with Eli. "You have not-" This time there was no word accompanying the obvious pause. Yes, this was the other game they had played this week. 

Eli would almost probably find it endearing if it hadn't happened in front of both senators and high-ranking military officers several times this week, putting Eli on the spot to not only read Thrawn's mind but also landing him in the direct path of that token Core-Worlder discrimination.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, too?"

Thrawn's eyes glittered expectantly. "Is it not _ukuphumula_?"

"Do _you_ feel relaxed right now, sir?"

The Chiss shrugged, pulling Eli forward with that inhuman strength of his so that they walked side by side. "I feel more inclined to speak on subjects that interest me," Thrawn supposed, "But my mind is no less functional."

"I wasn't doubting that," Eli said. "I figure you could be blackout drunk and nobody would ever know…" He grinned. "Unless they needed you to speak in perfect Basic, that is."

Eli did not shy away from Thrawn's brooding glare. "My Basic is quite passable," He said with a tinge of dissatisfaction that had Eli sighing.

"It is," Eli agreed, then nudged the subject back to a less upsetting topic for the slightly more volatile Admiral Thrawn he had been sidled with. "You still didn't answer my question," He said.

"Am I trying to get you drunk?" Thrawn asked himself. Aloud. Eli resisted the urge to laugh until Thrawn said, "I suppose I am."

"Why?"

"It is a holiday, yes?"

Eli shrugged. "Yeah, but-"

"You have spent this week looking out for my needs-"

"That's my job, sir."

"And it is _my_ job to care for you."

Eli stopped walking, lips turned down into a frown.

Thrawn turned, just the slightest bit less poised than he normally was. "I wish for you to be able to relax with me. _Around_ me," He corrected. "You are…" His forehead wrinkled slightly when he frowned, _"Wangikhanga_ and I want-"

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up." Eli yanked Thrawn around to face him, face red. "You knew?"

"The crew has what they feel is a discreet betting pool," Thrawn admitted nonchalantly while blinking down at Eli's hands wrapped around his arms just above the elbow. 

" _That's_ how you found out?" Eli hung his head.

"I have known for years," Thrawn assured him. "I thought that perhaps if you-" He studied Eli. "Is that so horrible?"

"I-" Eli sighed, removing his hands from Thrawn and stepping back. "No, it's not you. I didn't want to make it awkward. I figured if you knew you'd have pointed it out already."

Pensively, Thrawn said, "I admit I thought that the more direct approach would have scared you away."

"Wait, what?"

"Between our ranks, the stigma of both sexual orientation and the difference in species-" He stroked his chin once, methodically, but then his tongue wet his lower lip and he watched the younger man with aoom that was nearly predatory as his eyes locked onto the motion and his pupils dilated.

"Is this because you're drunk?"

Thrawn's eyes flashed, ready to refute any challenge. "Hardly."


	22. Day 22: Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some traditions needed to be destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun story about how this is literally the premise of a short story I've committed to writing in the future, set about ten years after the events of Treason. Let me know if this would be something you'd be interested in reading about.

Traditionally, the Mitth wore deep, royal burgundy, a color of opulence, vigilance, aggression. The color was beautiful. It always had been.

Traditionally, the Chiss did not welcome outsiders. They were wary and isolationist. This truth was neutral, defensible. But at times, it was rather ugly.

Some traditions were unreasonable, Patriarch Mitth'ali'astov thought to herself, considering the man before her. They were made to conceal fear with grandeur, to twist tragedy into glory. There was nothing glorious or grand about what her predecessor had done. She would likely spend the rest of her life correcting those mistakes and paving the way forward for others. 

That was fine. She had known what she was committing to.

Some traditions needed to be destroyed. Selfishness and vanities would not save them from the darkness that lingered in the reaches. As was the case of her guest, tradition had been discarded in the interest of using all of the Ascendancy's available assets to the best of their abilities. 

"Admiral," Thalias addressed him when he came. "I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me."

He smiled. "It is always an honor to meet with the Patriarch of a ruling family," He said, and as custom, waited for her to indicate that he may sit.

"Supreme Admiral Ar'alani suggested that she gave you orders," Thalias began. "That you will be setting course for the reaches."

The admiral's eyes sharpened, gleaming. Good, she thought. This was not unexpected. She folded her hands together in front of her - a picture of Chiss stoicness that did not match her way of being, but likewise matched her counterpart's brisk decorum. "I would make a request of you, Admiral Eli'van'to. I wish to correct the transgression of my predecessor."

He inclined his head, lips briefly twitching. Yes, he was already planning for what she had in mind, she need only issue her mandate. "Yes, Patriarch," He said. "My fleet will be making for a planetoid called Plexanth on the fringes of the Ascendancy. It is well sheltered by a nebula of the same name. We discovered evidence of our enemies attempting to establish a foothold there."

"Grysk?"

"Yes," He said, grave. "What intelligence we've collected suggests they do not have a large enough fleet to withstand a large incursion. They managed to miraculously-" She noted the glint in his eye and agreed. It wasn't miraculous at all, "-rebel from Grysk control, however they're still rebuilding. They do not have an armada to combat the threat we believe will stand against them."

"It would not be wise to allow them to control any space on our border," She considered. "And I am certain the nebula might aid them in remaining concealed."

"That is our concern, yes."

She nodded. "Then I wish you good hunting."

"And I thank you, Patriarch." He eyed her expectantly. She nodded and he dipped his head in response, ready and willing. 

"My predecessor has brought shame to our family by unjustly orchestrating the exile of one of our own. When the planet is secure, I order you to locate Mitth'raw'nuruodo and deliver to the Ascendancy. He is to be reinstated with all rights and privileges befitting a ranking distant member of the five ruling families."

"It will be done, Patriarch Thalias," Admiral Eli'van'to promised. Thalias believed him.

"You have my gratitude, Admiral. May warrior's fortune be in your favor."


	23. Day 23: Insecurities (mature)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really just a thinly veiled excuse for some sub!Thrawn. Nothing graphic, but if you don't like that sort of thing, please take care.
> 
> This one was a bit out of my comfort zone, but my brain got stuck on it, so here we are. That's the point of a challenge, right?

Thrawn floated.

At least, that was the only way to describe the experience as he knew it. It was akin to drifting somewhere half a meter above his body, mind blank in a way no meditation could accomplish. He felt pleasantly detached from most everything, yet intimately connected to the man beside him. He felt sore and wrung out. He felt open.

Eli had done this to him. Eli Vanto, his meek, insecure protégé now grown into himself - so very different, but at his core, so unchanged. Eli had reached inside of him and snuffed out that ball of nuclear energy that kept his thoughts racing endlessly, had set him adrift… but kept him tethered effortlessly, not allowing him to be completely lost to this blissful sense of nothingness.

He did not know how long he laid there, blinking up at the pale ceiling, unseeing. He had little sense of his body, still half-floating. He did not think about how he pushed his head into Eli's hand when he brushed the hair from Thrawn's forehead, or hear the hazy hum that slipped from his lips when the line of heat that was Eli's body pressed ever so gently against him, or notice that his eyes had slipped to half-mast. Without realizing it, he no longer seemed to float outside of himself, but sank.

It was a fathomless void beneath him, like the galaxy had been reduced, contained to his very person and this moment. Everything felt more. More sharp more intense, more-

"Hey," Eli's face swam above him, and it was difficult to open his eyes, to focus. It felt like he was drowning. "You're alright," He said, and with a strength Thrawn barely remembered beyond how he'd reveled in it, Eli reached around his shoulder, moving him so they laid facing each other. Fingers traced gently across his cheeks, swiping at dampness he could not place for he felt reduced to nothing, yet everything. "I'm here."

It wasn't the words so much as it was his voice. A warm, steady tone to cut through dark, cold waters. Eli spoke and Thrawn heard but didn't hear him, soothed by the familiar cadence, that rumble and drawl, an anchor he did not need to focus to draw upon. 

"You're doing so well," Thrawn thought he heard Eli say, felt the hand that slid up and down his back and tried not to shudder, reminded muzzily of the other times Eli had said that to him today: how Eli had touched him like he was precious - more than he deserved, more than a sharpened instrument of war, of destruction - as he scorched him inside out with words and heat and _touch_.

This hadn't gone how he had expected, he thought, when thoughts no longer slipped away from him like smoke in his hands. He had anticipated being in control - he had been in control - until he wasn't and Eli was reducing him to _this_. Distantly, he realized Eli had maneuvered himself so that Thrawn's face was pressed against his chest, his left ear able to pick up the steady drum of Eli's heart beating. 

"What is this?" Thrawn asked, sounding absolutely wrecked, surprised at the tone of his own voice. "I do not understand."

Eli tucked his chin down, so his lips brushed Thrawn's other ear. "It's alright," Eli promised him, and Thrawn shivered at the way Eli seemed to croon each word, slow and sweet into his ear. "It can happen when things get… well, intense. You've never-"

"Never," Thrawn confirmed, unable to summon the strength to move from Eli's chest. "I-" He seemed to stall out, "Why am I-"

"You dropped," He explained. "Happens sometimes, when your endorphins dip after sex. I'm thinking you had no idea you liked not being so-"

"I did not," Thrawn admitted. "It felt-" He pressed his face into Eli's chest as if to soak up the heat the human's body gave off. "I enjoyed it, but-"

"It's alright, really. You've never done things by halves. You okay with me holding you or-"

Thrawn didn't think about it, how he felt like he was trying to crawl inside of Eli, like Eli was his only tether to the rest of the galaxy. Instead, he curled his larger frame around the human, shoving his face up into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sighing when hands stroked his hair and Eli tucked Thrawn's head under his chin, humming something about that question being answered.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Eventually," Thrawn supposed on a delay, noting in the abstract how far away he sounded. With the heat bleeding off of Eli, the smell of his skin like sun and desert sand, all he wanted was to close his eyes and feel this connection to him.

Yes, the still quiet part of his mind knew they would need to talk. He wanted to feel like he had before, to revel in floating and understand that feeling. But for now, he needed-

Eli. He needed Eli, and Eli had him. "Take your time," He promised. "I'm not going anywhere."


	24. Day 24: Role Swap (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was - if he could just gather the mental power to focus - what he might have done, how he might have seduced Eli Vanto once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another teaser for that fic I mentioned in chapter 22 - I'll be writing this next month. This isn't graphic, but there is definitely some... wordy foreplay going on.

"Quiet," Vanto ordered, the 'be' part lost to his native drawl. He flipped his wrist, the familiar motion activating his commlink.

And that was when Thrawn realized he hadn't been as silent as he thought. 

_"Ch'abcesit,"_ The Chiss Commanders addressed him. _Admiral._ All of his ship captains, the entirety of the fleet - _the armada_ \- he had arrived with, checked in to report their hourly all-clear, standard protocol for operating within an anticipated war zone.

Vanto conversed with each of them briefly, all the while maintaining eye contact with Thrawn, cool brown to blazing ruby. He didn't stop what he was doing, the casual, unhurried press of their bodies against each other at the hip, Thrawn somehow beneath him as he'd been since he'd started this.

This was - if he could just gather the mental power to focus - what he might have done, how he might have seduced Eli Vanto once. But now, Eli was watching him intently, so obstinately focused, like he wanted to take Thrawn apart. Thrawn found it impossible to look away from that dark, amused gaze to do more than watch the way his lips moved, how they were more deeply colored now, tinged bright red with heat because Thrawn had kissed him and he-

A hand clamped over his mouth, not hard, just enough to draw his attention before a more purposeful, slower, harder grind of their hips together as he conversed like nothing was happening. Thrawn gasped, open mouthed, breathing hotly against Eli’s fingers. This was not how he had imagined this - if he was admitting that he had imagined it at all (and he had). Eli loomed over him now, somehow feeling so much larger than he was, with that easygoing confidence he’d arrived touting, the years and experience - their time apart - hurtling him leagues ahead of anything Thrawn could have imagined.

This shouldn’t be getting to him. He had never liked this particular side to intimate liaisons and yet here he was, on his back, wanton and moaning his pleasure like it could not be contained. Here he was, relishing the fact that he was losing control, coming undone.

Eli looked down at him, one eyebrow raised, as if he had heard that thought like Thrawn had spoken aloud. He flicked his wrist again, the motion this time sending his comm to do-not-disturb status, then leaned down, his right cheek just barely grazing Thrawn’s left.

“To defeat an enemy, you must know them,” Eli whispered, the words like fire and frost, a shivering zing down Thrawn’s spine, his mind turning over the words and wondering why, why did such an honest simple statement make his back arch and eyes decide to roll back. “I find that sentiment works great with adversaries of any kind,” He said, only then unsealing his hand from Thrawn’s mouth. “It’s good advice.”

Yes, Thrawn thought, as Eli leaned down to kiss him, hot lips and tongue and teeth, that was why this got to him so completely - these were his own words, his own lessons. It was a rather unique, yet decadently practical application.


	25. Day 25: Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn orchestrates a meeting.

They were stuck. 

It was, in Eli's humble opinion, the most idiotic situation he'd managed to get himself into in a long, long time. He had managed to get his act together these last few years, had hunkered down, taken his lumps and learned his lessons. And, now that Thrawn had come waltzing back in, it was like none of that even mattered. Less than eight weeks in, Eli was already back to being the bumbling Wild Space idiot.

One would have thought that time would have changed things. Whether it had been one year or half a decade, it mattered little, apparently.

"Commander Ivant."

And, to make matters worse, Eli was trapped with the man himself. Thrawn blinked at him, all sharp glowing eyes against the ambient deck and wall-plate emergency lighting. He met Thrawn's gaze out of habit, willing his expression to be flat. He had had a _lot_ of practice at hiding his feelings. After all, he happened to have a lot of them about a lot of things. 

"Yes, sir?"

Those red eyes flicked over him, almost emotionlessly… but, Eli picked out his concern. "We will likely be here a while. Chiss vessels do not have the same control systems that Star Destroyers have, so they will have to bypass the system instead of toggling specific doors by section and sub-level."

"Understood," Eli answered, brisk and professional, then sat on a crate that housed tactical armor. They would be here a while, and Eli didn't even have his questis. For that matter, it appeared his CO didn't have his, either. Eli was certain that rankled the usually efficient Senior Commander.

Eli was accustomed to silence. Chiss did not waste words, did not make idle conversation - at least, the military ones didn't. He didn't fidget either, like he might have once. Instead, straight backed against the wall, sitting on the crate, he subjected himself to his CO's scrutiny.

After the ops team - frantic, concerned - checked in on their ship's captain, Thrawn spoke in his direction. "You requested to stay aboard the _Steadfast_ ," Thrawn said.

Right into the crux of the matter, huh? Alright, Eli thought. He'd become more than a little adept at handling confrontation. "I did," He agreed, but did not say anything more.

 _That_ rankled Thrawn. His tread across the deck plates had changed, becoming faster. Eli closed his eyes again and waited for his former mentor to collect his thoughts. He wouldn't lie. He had formally requested not to be transferred to the _Springhawk._ He had met with Admiral Ar'alani. Ar'alani, as was her right, had denied him. And thus, Eli accepted his duty without protest, as was expected of him. 

"I had thought this might be," Thrawn trailed off. 

"You requested me," Eli offered plainly. Not angry - he'd gotten over it, and himself quite quickly. "I understand the logic. Admiral did, too."

"If you wish to transfer..."

"I do not mind being your second," Eli said in the space between his words, "Sir."

"I have clearly altered your plans yet again, Commander Ivant." Pressed Thrawn. "My apologies."

"My plans are irrelevant."

Ar'alani had ruled against Eli because she had a much wider perspective. She ruled against Eli because she knew what he had gone through - how hard he had worked to figure out where in the galaxy Thrawn had ended up - and because she knew what Thrawn thought of him. Things both of them had yet to fully grasp about the other. She wasn't going to work this out for them, but Eli knew she had done far more radical things for far slighter reasons. 

She wanted them to work together. She wanted to see their synergy, to harness and weapon-wise it against their enemies. Eli understood. They worked well together, as they always had. Thrawn's grasp of knowledge through art and cultural study, and Eli's affinity for math, logistics, and politics compounded with their joint talents in command, strategy, and tactics made them a force to be reckoned with. They balanced each other splendidly. At least, they used to, when they spoke to each other.

"This is the longest we have been in each other's company since your reassignment." 

It had been less than an hour. Eli was aware. He had been nothing but cordial, but he had given Thrawn his respect and with it, a wide berth. In the last few weeks, they had mopped up several potential crises without issue. 

Also, Eli didn't need Thrawn to double and triple check his work anymore. Not for the mundane. He allowed it, as was the right of the ship's captain. But he did not seek Thrawn's approval for every little thing. He knew his role. He was confident in himself, for the most part.

And frankly, he couldn't stand being held at arm's length. Not when he and Thrawn had once been strangely attached, like two halves of one beast. At least, they had been, until Eli had gone - on Thrawn's request, no less, what did that say about him? (Nothing that he didn't know himself, already...) - and then when he'd been thrust in front of Thrawn it had been…

Well. He tried not to be petty, but he'd expected at least something trending toward positive. What he had not expected at the time was that the last ten years of his life, his life serving the Empire with Thrawn (every single moment, experience, lesson), had been seemingly wiped away. 

"To be fair, it isn't like we've had any briefings," He pointed out. "Things have been manageable."

Thrawn paced some more, traversing the square perimeter of several shelving units. He made one lap, then two, then came to a stop directly in front of Eli, looking down at him.

"I had thought you would be… pleased to work with me again," Thrawn began, very nearly tentative. "We seemed compatible."

"We are," Eli said, finally looking up at him. His eyes narrowed. "Did you orchestrate this?"

"You have ducked out of every other opportunity to discuss this," Thrawn confirmed unapologetically. "This was the most discreet location aboard-"

"You could have ordered me to hear you out. You do have an office."

"Yes, I do," He agreed, frowning. "However…" He sighed. "In the event that what you told me was not-"

"I have known you for a hell of a long time, and you've never run from anything," Eli managed, then stopped, catching what Thrawn wasn't saying. "I didn't think it would upset you," He said. "Us not working together."

Thrawn exhaled. It wasn't a sigh. "It would not, if it were what was best. But I think that we are well-suited. If I could have anyone at my back, I would wish it to be you."

Eli blinked. "I figured I was just… I dunno," Unlike Thrawn, he did sigh. "Last time I saw you, at that Grysk base," He began. "It's silly, but-"

"You assumed I did not care," Thrawn realized.

"Yes. And in the first place, I came here because you asked me to," He said. "I thought you knew that."

"I told you the scale of the threat."

Eli stood, feeling the wave of anger that crashed over him. "I left everything I ever knew behind because I believed you. I stayed because it was the right thing to do." He sighed, barely restraining himself from poking Thrawn's chest. "And then you just… like it was nothin'."

"I was not…" Thrawn lowered his head. "I was… driven. Focused on my goals," He said. "Harming you was never my intent."

"It's not your fault. I shouldn't be so sensitive," Eli said dryly. A little loathing crept into his tone. "It's been years and I-"

"You have made more than your fair share of excuses for me," Thrawn said. "And you are well within your rights to hold me accountable."

Eli deflated a little, voice strained, "It's not like you did it on purpose, right?"

"Never," Thrawn said, softer. "I have missed you. More than I find…" He trailed off. "More than I expected."

"Enough to sabotage your own ship?"

"I hardly sabotaged anything."

"No, but you gave an engineer incorrect instructions, probably. I'm sure they'll have a field day."

"It is… interesting that you suggest that," Thrawn said. "But that is not the point." He frowned. "I wish for us to be…" He struggled to find a word. "I wish to be close to you."


	26. Day 26: Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving. To those of you who don't, a very happy Thursday.

There would be time later. Over and over again, Mitth'raw'nuruodo had convinced himself that there would be time. Time to sort out whatever chaos he had caused. Time to consider his own wants and needs. Time to address items he had put off addressing.

Time to repent, to ask forgiveness. To begin again. 

It was on the bridge of his own flagship that he had found the time to revisit all those thoughts. It seemed that each moment stretched impossibly toward eternity now. 

If he had known how it would end, he would've disposed of Pryce before Batonn. If he had known, he would have pushed harder to liberate Nightswan, to send him to the Ascendancy instead. He ignored the painful twisting around his torso, the way his lungs stuttered for breath and dark spots stole his vision. If he had known…

His thoughts quieted, drifting to his former aide. Eli Vanto. 

He had not thought highly of Vanto at first. He had been convenient to mask Thrawn's proficiency with the Empire's first language, and, had he been a spy as Thrawn had so fleetingly thought, he would be easy to monitor.

But Vanto had proved himself. He had given Thrawn hints that he had rare and valuable skills, an aptitude for leadership and tactics. He had done so unknowingly. It had been a privilege to watch him grow and learn. It had been a privilege to teach him. And it had been an honor to come to know him.

The knowledge that he would be left with their final interaction as it was - traditional yet not terribly personal - bothered him, immensely.

There should have been more time. Now, all Thrawn had was time. Time to think about everything he could have - everything he _should have_ said. Time to consider his regrets. Time to hope that Ar'alani could still read him as he always had, that she would tell Vanto that… that-

Time to contemplate his rapidly approaching death.

-/

“Official matters first,” Ar’alani said into his thoughts. Thrawn blinked, realizing he’d been holding Eli Vanto’s gaze for several seconds too long, lost in his thoughts. 

She did not seem perturbed by it, instead continuing her explanation of what would happen next - debriefing, recuperation, reinstatement - to a slightly more attentive audience. Thrawn had no doubt that Ar’alani would guide him as though she hadn’t given him this intel, so he let the words continue to flow around him like water, some things being captured by osmosis, the rest falling away. 

Vanto’s eyes did not glow, did not grow brighter or dim with certain emotions, and yet they seemed to smoulder like a stoked flame, deep browns and greys and embers of orange-gold if viewed at the right angle. His eyes also expressed more obvious emotion. This particular look was softer - grateful and worried, yet still attentive and cognizant of the situation.

When the admiral finished speaking, Eli inclined his head to her and she nodded once, curtly. She might have wanted to say something else, but instead she dismissed them.

Once they got out into the ship’s winding, mostly empty corridors, Eli pressed closer. He walked neither ahead nor behind, standing with Thrawn’s upper arm nearly brushing his shoulder. A fellow commander, then, Thrawn surmised.

“You can stay with me during the debrief,” Eli said quietly. “I have a place now, planetside. Admiral already approved my leave.”

“I appreciate it,” Thrawn said cordially. “Thank you.”

Eli shrugged.

They made it to the end of the corridor, entered the lift, and waited for it to close. Suddenly, with the doors closed behind them - with them alone, for the first time in years - Thrawn found his patience utterly exhausted. Eli turned to him and Thrawn wondered if he had noticed, but-

The emergency lighting came on. Eli raised his eyebrows in the dark. “I don’t want to wait another minute,” He said in Basic. “I don’t want-”

Thrawn understood. That was why Thrawn immediately leaned down and kissed him, fingers gripping his shoulders almost painfully for how tight he was squeezing. Eli groaned and yielded, reaching up for Thrawn’s hands to guide them to his hips, his back, to pull them more closely together. It was an urgent thing, like two waves crashing against each other - sharp and surging - before relenting, smoothing. 

When they stepped back from each other a moment later, Eli gave him another smile. Something secret and knowing, something achingly gentle. He reactivated the lift and resumed his position - parade rest, his elbows barely brushing Thrawn’s forearm. The lift opened and they continued to move through the ship, making for the hangar.

He could see the easement in Eli's posture, his shoulders rolled back with confidence instead of tension. No one else seemed to notice, but that was fine. He was not trying to make a scene, to draw attention to it. His own attention was enough to draw a reaction: the darkening of those umber eyes, a glint of white teeth biting his lower lip. Thrawn wanted to kiss him again. More than that, he wanted Eli to kiss him. To touch him. To simply be with him.

"The shuttle can handle most of the trip on autopilot," Eli said ruefully. He ran a hand through his hair and Thrawn wondered if Eli would like it if he sank his fingers into that softness and pulled. He had a feeling Eli would. "We've got time. Ar'alani said your debrief will begin tomorrow afternoon."

"And until then?"

"We ought to get reacquainted," Eli said, then backpedaled, realizing his overt insinuation, "Unless you have any qualms-"

"None," Thrawn confirmed. Eli grinned. 


	27. Day 27: Favorites

Thrawn had never been one to give preferential treatment.

Ar'alani summoned her lone human commander, searching his face before looking down at the questis in front of her. She exhaled slowly.

"I realize that the intelligence that came in was difficult to process." 

He nodded gravely but did not speak. She noted that his cheeks were no longer flushed with heat, though they did seem a bit rosy. He must have splashed water on his face before coming here. She would not have judged him, but others...

"I believe that there are some things you should know, considering." She slid the data crystal across her desk toward him. "I don't know what he was thinking," She admitted. "Something must have forced his hand."

Ivant nodded, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were dull. "I recognize your loss as well, Admiral."

She smiled, a little sad. "He was like a younger sibling," She mused, though the way Ivant's eyes narrowed suggested he was able to tell they had experimented otherwise first. He did not display token human jealousy. Not that it mattered anymore, she supposed darkly. "It may be a lot of information you already know," She said, "But Thrawn was always candid in his reports. I know he was never good at… expressing emotion, but-"

"He gave me his journal," The man said, hands curled up, picking at his sleeves. He realized he was doing it and fell into parade rest instead, forcing his hands to keep still behind his back.

She had no doubt he would get through this. Despite his emotions and her peoples' prejudice. He would make it. "Read these. He had a lot to say about you. I think-"

Ivant nodded sharply. "I will," He said, voice thick. "Thank you, admiral."

"It is nothing, commander. I should like to talk to you when you are done. We shall carry on his memory together."

He smiled, bittersweet, and the sight of his lip wobbling slightly, the way he bit it to stop himself made her heart ache for him. They had both deserved better than this. 

Thrawn may not have given preferential treatment to anyone, but Ar'alani had known for a long long time that Eli’van’to had been his favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hereby submit myself for punishment. I know this one was real sad.


	28. Day 28: Earth AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really do AUs, but I tried to write something semi-intriguing. Kind of a western undercover spy vibe? Maybe some faked deaths?
> 
> All this has done is made me think Burn Notice but make it Thrawn instead of Michael Weston??? Hahaha

Someone knocked late in the evening. Eli shared a look with his husband, exhaled, and rose from the dinner table, giving a brief nod to the young man sitting to his left. “Keep eating,” He said, and strode purposely to the front door.

“Whoa, now,” He said, holding out both hands. “I ain’t armed.”

There was an ominous scratch of a kitchen chair against the tiled floor. Eli purposefully ignored it, silently hoping to whatever gods were out there that Ezra stopped him before he made it to one of the several weapons he had hidden throughout the kitchen.

“Right,” Said the woman, all bright hair and golden-dark eyes. “You’re perfectly innocent.”

Her partner made an almost exasperated face - it was subdued by her own skepticism - and lowered the first woman’s gun. “Officer Wren and I are here looking for Admiral Thrawn, in connection to the disappearance of Ezra Bridger fifteen years ago.”

“There’s no one here by that name,” Eli said firmly.

“What about former Admiral Thrawn?” The taller woman - the calmer one - asked instead. 

Eli shrugged. “Do you officers happen to have a warrant?”

“We can go get one, or you can let us in,” Officer Wren replied, hands moving to her hips, easily within reach of her weapons. “After all, you said he wasn’t here. And if we do go get a warrant, I’m certain there’s plenty of illicit activities you’ve been up to you wouldn’t want coming to light...”

Smiling at them, Eli waved a hand. “I’m retired military. My side agreed to your side’s terms, I did as I was told and was released,” He said. “I ain’t got nothin’ to hide, but the government you all established gave me rights. So I would politely,” His voice was a steel guitar, a stern twang that was all business, “Request that you return here with a warrant. Then, Officer Wren-” He looked to the other woman, reading the name on her uniform - “Officer Tano, I would be more than happy to take you on a tour of the property or even come in for questioning at your convenience.” 

It was a gamble, but he’d read their faces. They didn’t have enough for a warrant, he could tell. They’d been hoping he’d step into a trap, but he wouldn’t. So they made their promise to come back - they would be, he was certain - and left. He watched them through the front window until he was certain they’d turned off the side road and onto the main one, then went back to his dinner. 

The sounds of quiet eating were disturbed when he came back. Thrawn rose quietly, plucking his plate out of the oven - he’d set it there to keep warm. Eli gave him a smile and sat back down across from him. He took a single bite before turning to Ezra. “Your friends are going to come back with a warrant.”

“We’re too close to a breakthrough,” Ezra said. “They can’t get involved. I guess we’ll have to, well,” He smiled a little wryly. “Improvise?”

“I guess so,” Eli said. “We’ve been in the same spot for a while now, anyway. Probably wouldn’t hurt to fake our deaths,” He glanced at Thrawn, who watched him steadily. “Again.”

Thrawn took another bite of his meal, and Eli could tell from the way he paused between bits that he was considering how much more kitchen space they’d have to make meals together - he liked it when Eli ordered him around the kitchen and he especially liked trying all of his mama’s thrice passed-down recipes. “I’ll contact Ar’alani to secure another safehouse.”

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased,” Ezra deadpanned.

“I’m sure,” Eli replied sarcastically. He’d probably bake her a pie. All of Thrawn’s people seemed to be in need of good eats. “But we ain’t doing anything until after dinner. Eat up.”


	29. Day 29: Party (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli Vanto absolutely should not be doing this.
> 
> But Thrawn has been in his own head for the last two weeks now, a side effect of extended time spent alone on Coruscant. It's for that reason alone that Eli smiles and leans into conversations more than he usually does, accepting the drink-induced flirting (the leering and touching and talking) he normally tries to avoid. 

Eli Vanto absolutely should not be doing this.

But Thrawn has been in his own head for the last two weeks now, a side effect of extended time spent alone on Coruscant. It's for that reason alone that Eli smiles and leans into conversations more than he usually does, accepting the drink-induced flirting (the leering and touching and talking) he normally tries to avoid. 

He does not like these events, these drives to raise money for Thrawn's as of yet unnamed starfighter project, to raise the credits anyone with good sense and capital to spare should be donating to bolstering their military. He liked them even less now that Arihnda Pryce has attached herself to Thrawn like a murderous parasite. She's started giving him a bad feeling, and he knows Thrawn feels much the same.

Speaking of Thrawn, Eli lifted his gaze purposefully over the shoulder of the senator trying to enamor himself to him and locked sightlines with his relatively newly minted Grand Admiral. 

Thrawn usually drank more after Coruscanti interludes, but tonight he was not drinking at all. His gaze is heavy and dark, like a predator who has determined Eli to be his prey. Eli lets his lips curl naturally, smirking a little. This is also part of the game - and something that makes the senator flush and reach out and hold onto his arm, wave over a serving droid, who shoves a drink into his hand. 

The Grand Admiral watched him with that piercing stare, watched him swallow with bright eyes that say so very little to anyone else. To Eli they are an ignored warning, the kind Thrawn thinks is benevolence. It's the stare he thought of when he touched himself, the secrets he gave away in plain sight to anyone smart enough to pay attention.

Eli has long since learned that Thrawn does not crave power so much as control. Control over himself is paramount - hence the sparkling water, not liquor - and control over those within his chain of command is imperative. Eli does this on purpose, seeks to infuriate him, to drive his attention away from the Emperor's strange influence and coax him into focusing on something - _someone_ \- he does have power over.

His younger self would have hated it, but as Eli swallowed a bit more of his drink than is polite (earning a heavy lean from the man who has been laying it on exceedingly thick as the night goes on), he knew he was inviting possession, daring Thrawn to come over here and exert his authority, to drag Eli away and claim what's his. 

Thrawn's eyes dipped microscopically to watch his throat bob again, then narrowed dangerously, sliding back up to his eyes and the cheeky glint in them - the one that said ‘so what are you going to do about this?’ - and Eli knew that he was going to pay for it later, but his plan had worked spectacularly.

At some point later, Thrawn came over to them, making some claim of business, a case they are working on that cannot wait. The senator gave him a card - the kind with his personal information, the kind that does not have his professional commlink frequency on it - and Thrawn watched the exchange with that cool, aloof, deadpan stare that does not give a single atom of emotion away. 

They moved briskly up the staircase that descends into the ballroom being used for the mixer, Eli one step behind him and to the left as was protocol. Thrawn gave nothing away, back perfectly straight, posture regal, almost feline in nature. They returned to their room in silence. The door closed behind them.

Then Thrawn held out his hand. 

Eli set the senator’s calling card atop his palm, and Thrawn’s fist closed around it, crushing it instantly. Nearly as instantly, Eli was slammed against the wall and Thrawn was nosing at his collar, pushing it down to bite hard, to make Eli moan and arch against him. He did not relent for longer than it took to get his hands under Eli's ass and lift him, snarling in the small space between them.

"You do not know what you are provoking, Lieutenant Commander," He warned darkly. "I will not take this lightly."

No, Eli knew he wouldn't. He smirked a little, lifted his eyes to Thrawn's and tilted his head. "That a promise, sir? I really hate these parties."

"You _will_ go back down there," Thrawn said hotly, lips dragging against the shell of his ear, voice dark, each word enunciated, carefully slow, "You will stay until I order you otherwise." His breath was hot and Eli's vision was tinted red by the glow of his eyes. "If you continue to entertain that drunken fool, I will see to it that you cannot walk tomorrow."

"You're not giving me much incentive to listen, s- _ah-_ " Eli gasped when Thrawn rutted against him. "I-"

"I'll cage you for a week," Thrawn threatened. Eli shivered. "You won't be able to meet my eyes without wanting to fall to your knees and beg."

Thrawn kneaded his ass cheeks hard enough to bruise and Eli barely avoided keening. It had been too long. "Please."

"No," The grand admiral replied, but distantly Eli noticed that he hadn't stopped the slow roll of his hips against Eli's. He wouldn't let Eli come yet, but he was thinking about it now, his mindset shifting. Good. "You will have to earn your release," He said, "Assuming you are capable of conducting yourself appropriately for the next hour."

"I can't help it if they come on to me," Eli pointed out, relishing the sudden heat that poured off the Chiss as they rocked against each other. He could feel the hard line of Thrawn's cock and he wished he could antagonize him more, just enough to get him to take Eli now, to let him spend the remainder of the evening fucked out, sore and sated at Thrawn's side as if on a short leash.

"Perhaps," Thrawn allowed. "But you are _mine_ , Eli Vanto." Eli shuddered hard and felt the teeth in Thrawn's feral grin against his jaw, the biting kiss against his neck, how Thrawn dragged his nose across sensitive skin to make his way back to Eli's ear. Eli considered begging for it then and there. "Say it."

"I'm yours, sir-"

"My name." 

Eli forced his eyes open and held Thrawn's gaze. "I am yours, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," He said, with a gravity that transcended their current state. Perhaps it wasn't appropriate for this scene, but he knew Thrawn relished it anyway.

As if to prove him right, Thrawn clutched him harder. "Yes," He said darkly. Only then did he kiss Eli's lips, a possessive, lovely thing that carried on until Eli's head spun and all he knew was Thrawn, "You are."


	30. Day 30: Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a wrap, folks! Back to your regularly scheduled fic updates for a bit while I declutter my mind. Like I've been saying, if there's any of these you really liked or would want to read more of, please don't hesitate to let me know! With the exception of the AU (i'm so bad at those), I picked topics that I wanted to write about. So if you'd like me to expand on/continue them or write something similar, I'm open to suggestions!

Ezra Bridger paced the tiny cell he’d been placed in. He’d agreed to the Force inhibitor, he’d adjusted to the shackles placed upon him. They’d been for the plan, Thrawn had said. He needed to convince these people that Ezra was a prize, chained and kept around as a trophy of his conquest. He was going to infiltrate the Empire again, but for the right reasons this time. He’d promised.

At the time, Ezra had believed him. Thrawn had believed himself, really, and Ezra - upon having time to contemplate the man - had wanted to trust him. But then, something had changed. Ezra didn’t need the Force to tell him that. He’d stopped being allowed out of his cell, his guards were newcomers he no longer recognized who treated him poorly. He could tell the ship was moving, that they’d managed to somehow repair and reconstruct the derelict _Chimaera_ to the point of functionality over the course of months.

Thrawn had stopped coming to see him altogether a while ago. Those who he saw, who brought him his meals referred to him as Grand Admiral. Never by name. They seemed fearful of him. Like something had changed.

The only thing - the absolute _only_ thing that frightened Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo (that wasn’t already contained in his brig) was Emperor Palpatine.

Palpatine was supposed to be dead. Then again, so was Ahsoka, if Ezra was being honest about it.

Thus, he paced, forced to stare at black and red walls. He talked to himself to keep himself occupied. He talked to his guards even though they didn’t talk back. He kicked and screamed until they stunned him. He asked for Thrawn. For Palpatine himself, for Vader. He tried to provoke them into coming in and beating him. He carried on until he considered he may have well and truly gone insane.

Eventually, though. Eventually, something gave.

It was rushed, and though Ezra did not feel the Force, he had good instincts, instincts that had kept him hidden, had kept him alive this long.

The guards entered the antechamber and came into the otherwise empty row of confinement units. There was no need to report off to each other besides subtle nods of acknowledgement. No changes, Ezra wanted to yell for them, half desperate to hear anyone else talking in this space. Every minute, every hour, it was getting more and more difficult to hold out, to continue to hope that he hadn’t misread this, that he hadn’t been wrong. That Thrawn would come through.

Almost immediately, the red blinking light from the holo recorder above Ezra’s head stuttered and flashed twice, then stilled for a moment too long. It began blinking again, and this time it was regular. He closed his eyes and willed himself still, waiting to see what would happen.

Maybe it was a glitch, but maybe it wasn’t.

A flash of blue streaked across his vision. Another. Then, a third.

“Ezra Bridger?” A female voice, heavily modulated by the stormtrooper helmet, asked.

“I’m here,” He said, a little wary, but instantly on his feet.

“Glad to hear it, kid,” She continued. There were scuffling sounds, like blasters being slid away from bodies. “We’re going to have to move quickly. Karyn couldn’t buy us much time.” 

The door to his cell opened quickly, and suddenly the trooper was in his personal space, yanking her gloves off and reaching inside her belt for a chip that she slid into the back of the collar around his neck. It beeped once, then loosened, deactivated. It clattered to the floor as the Force rushed in, and Ezra thought for a moment he was going to faint. Hands steadied him.

“Easy,” She warned. “You’ll need to armor up.”

Ezra all but tore the body suit off the trooper she’d come in with - he reckoned that was the cleanest one - donning it and the trooper’s armor. “Right,” He said once the modulator was in place and she’d handed him a weapon. “Where are we going?”

“Hangar,” She said, toggling the manual unlock with a code cylinder. That was odd, Ezra noted. Troopers had passcodes and biometric scans. They didn’t have code cylinders like the senior officers did. Thrawn had told him that once, when they’d been allies, and not… well, maybe they weren’t enemies. Maybe this was his plan, though Ezra had started doubting that when he walked through the hangar and saw just how prepared for war it suddenly seemed.

“He rebuilt the fleet,” Ezra whispered to himself as he watched officers and pilots scurry about. Things were more run down, but Thrawn ran a tight ship. This was a naval force to be reckoned with and Ezra knew it. 

The woman beside him turned her head, that impassive trooper mask saying nothing. She didn’t have to. Ezra felt her despair. They climbed into the ship - a lamda that had been set apart. Ezra saw that the transponder panel was open, that there was a jammer for comms waiting to be activated. The woman dropped bodily into the pilot’s chair and yanked the helmet off, tossing it away carelessly. 

“Buckle in, kid,” Commander Mina Hammerly tilted her head to indicate the co-pilot’s chair. “We’ve got to get into hyperspace and get this ship off the radar.”

There was nothing to be said. Hammerly’s eyes were glossy as she looked back at the repaired but imperfect underbelly of the _Chimaera_ , but her eyes were hard and her presence resolute. She yanked the transponder from the console. Next, she activated the jammer. Then, she held up a data card. It looked old and foreign.

“This will work for now,” She said, as she shoved it into the slightly mis-matched terminal. “We’re going to dump the Lamda on a world out in Wild Space. I think we’ll be able to make it and be out of there before he realizes we’re gone. It’s not all that far from here.”

“And then what?” Ezra asked. “What are we even doing?”

Hammerly shucked off the chest and back plates. They too were discarded on the floor without care. “The Empire is lost,” She began. “We have to stop Thrawn.”

“He said he was going to-”

“I know,” She interrupted, her voice thick with emotion she willed herself to contain. She looked at him, green-grey eyes imploring him to hear her out. “Something changed. One of the moffs had something. A spectre. Faro saw it. She said it was like… it was like the Emperor but in a droid. He began getting paranoid, closed off. She thinks he’s trying to unify the remnants of the Empire, so he can take control of them, but-” She sighed. “There’s all sorts of conflicting information coming in. Things are… the Empire is lost. Besides, Thrawn couldn’t outmaneuver Pryce. He could take Pandion, but I doubt he’d be able to out politic Gideon. And even if he did, Rae Sloane is out there and she’s not going to just let him deviate from the plan… assuming that’s what he still planned to do. ”

“You don’t think it is,” He pointed out.

“No,” She said. “I don’t.” 

She looked away for a long moment. “Not long before you… well, before Lothal,” She paraphrased, “There was an incident with Thrawn’s people. They’re... not from this part of the galaxy.”

“I’ve never seen another being like him,” Ezra agreed. “What is he?”

“He’s a Chiss,” Hammerly said. “Supposedly they live in the Unknown Regions. Some worlds know about them. Especially Wild Space planets like Lysatra.”

“Is that where we’re going?” She nodded. “And we’re just going to ask them where the Chiss live?”

“No.” She said. “Our objective is to get a tradeship with the ability to jump through the Unknown Regions.”

“And you know someone who can get you that?”

“There’s a shipping company out that way,” She said. “I know the owner’s son.” Her smile turned a little wistful. “He served with Thrawn for a decade as his personal aide. There were all sorts of rumors when he disappeared. We - the officer core - assumed he was dead. Eli loved Thrawn. He never would’ve left him to fend for himself if he could help it.” She shrugged. “Regardless, we found out what happened: Thrawn sent him to his people. He serves the Chiss now.”

“And you think he’ll help us?”

“I know he will. Vanto knows Thrawn better than anyone. If we’re going to save him from himself, Eli Vanto is our only hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


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